


The Descent

by Incognito



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst and Humor, Gen, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-21 02:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incognito/pseuds/Incognito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Fire Prince had died young—too young. But what's more was she was the one who killed him. Now Katara must find her enemy in the terrifying mist of the Spirit World. In life and death, their souls have become inextricably bound, and Katara will do anything to bring Zuko home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my 2012 Zutara Secret Santa gift for **jesterry** , who drew the lovely picture below for me.
> 
> [](http://fav.me/d5o6e5k)   
> 

_“Death twitches my ear;_   
_‘Live,’ he says._   
_‘For I am coming.’”_

 

 

IT BEGAN WITH a tug at his navel, and suddenly he was being thrown up into the air. The icy wind sung in his ears as he sailed, like ephemeral music curling around his thoughts. When he finally reached the pinnacle, he exhaled, watching as his breath crystallised in the air.

There was an annoying pulse beating at the back of his eyes, like the percussion of war drums, but then the pain shifted to his throat—hot and sharp. Drops of blood burst before his eyes and fanned out like delicate red tendrils. He gasped for air, but all he could do was gargle as tiny red bubbles spilled from his mouth and stained his lips.

 _This is it_ , he thought. _This is how it ends_.

It felt as though he was being pulled in another direction—out onto the edge of something terrifying, over a cliff he couldn’t climb out of. He expected to be terrified, but it was almost like a peaceful calm had taken over him. Then the music in his ears changed, its final notes becoming shrill and tinny like a threnody. _His_ threnody.

The beating of the war drums grew louder, deafening and incessant. They would not stop. They would never stop. They would only burn like a tattoo on his heart until—

* * *

KATARA POKED AIMLESSLY at the fire with a stick and shivered as a blast of icy cold wind howled all too close to her ears. Inside the cave was no warmer than it was outside. However, unlike the vast, frozen tundra that surrounded this place, the cave was relatively dry and free from snow.

The storm outside raged its ceaseless anger, filling the opening of the cave with yet another fresh blanket of snow. The sky had darkened an angry shade of grey, and the cave too, save the flickering fire that cast dancing shadows along the walls.

It had taken a few minutes, but her heart had finally stopped its racing. It was a relief to breathe normally again, no longer having to suck the air into her lungs in short gasps. She felt oddly calm huddled around the fire as the light from the flames rolled over her face and hair, giving her features a rusted, haunted glow.

His body, however, lay cold beside her. His mouth was open in a faint O of shock. His hair was already drying; some strands had fallen loose from the knot, feathering over his closed eyes in wisps. That fair skin of his, that fine black hair, that painful red scar—everything was so stark and contrast, calling out to her.

 _He looks so young_ , she thought. _He_ looked _so young_.

The fire hissed at her feet, creating its own melody with the burning wood. It crackled and popped, and she shivered violently, drawing her coat tightly about herself as she awkwardly shuffled away from the body. She was dressed warmly enough, but it was the North Pole and the night (or was it day now?) was cold.

A pack of wolves howled in the distance and she shuddered. She had no idea how to get back to the city from here on her own, but she figured someone would come for her eventually. Truth be told, she didn’t want to go back yet. She couldn’t. Not with _him_ , not with the body.

 _The body_.

Katara hugged her knees to her chest and glanced down at the young man. Man? Just a boy, really. Zuko, the Fire Prince. He was so still, so motionless. Katara’s eyes began to water at the sight of him, and she quickly turned away.

The sky pulsed a dull red and she caught a glimpse of the moon hanging blood red behind the clouds. Something was wrong. She could feel it. She wondered if her brother and Aang were okay.

On the heels of a second set of howls, she realised that it was not wolves she heard but the screaming of people from the frozen city below. Their frightened screams carried on the wind. Fear was in the air. People were afraid. People were dying.

Katara swallowed back the terror. Her stomach churned in fear, and regret. She should have run outside to see what was going on. She should have abandoned the cave’s protection and helped her friends. However, the body lying beside her refused to let her go. It weighed her down like a stone. Guilt had rooted itself in her heart and would not let her move.

Yes, people were dying. People were dead. She should know. She had also killed today.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

“WELL, AREN’T YOU a big girl now?”

Katara turned slowly in dawning horror. “No!”

“Yes.”

The Fire Prince made his way down the steps. His hair was pulled back in an unkempt ponytail; rebel strands broke free in wisps about his face. There were deep black circles beneath his eyes; the right one was bruised. He already looked beaten and exhausted, but those eyes of his were just as bright and golden she remembered them—and they were now fixed on a meditating Aang.

“Now hand him over and I won’t have to hurt you.”

Katara swallowed back the sick, frozen feeling swimming in her gut and deliberately shifted into a defensive stance. Zuko was the first to move, leaping down the stairs as he kicked up his leg, sending a wide arc of fire her way. Next he struck with his fists, jabbing like a boxer with rapid, successive movements.

Katara turned back and forth, narrowly dodging the deadly flames. She drew from the spring and met the Zuko’s volleys of flame with a wall of water. Then she gathered her chi into a tight cord and pulled water from the pool again, shooting the powerful stream in his face. The force from the blast sent him flying backwards. He twisted in the air before falling to the ground with a listless thud.

“I see you’ve learned a new trick.” He lifted himself back up to his feet and spat the water out of his mouth with a grimace. “But I didn’t come this far to lose to you.”

Whirling around, Zuko fired another blast. Katara blocked it easily, summoning yet another shield of water. The liquid hissed at the contact, but she pressed on, trying to drive him back.

She wasn’t exactly scared in this moment. She felt the same as if she got caught at the top of a very high tree and there was nothing to do but just climb back down the best way should could. It was a dead calm feeling. And though she had no idea where Zuko’s next attack would come from, she knew that she could deflect it. In fact, she met and matched his every thrust, even surpassing him.

Now she was pivoting, using the momentum of the water to encircle and ensnare the Fire Prince. The avalanche of water blinded him, reeling him back towards the icy walls. Each jet collided into him, never missing. Even as he attempted to steady himself from another impact, small juts of ice formed around his feet.

Katara’s arms were moving fluidly through the air, gathering speed until they were whirling, forming the water into a giant ball with Zuko trapped inside it. There was a loud snap followed by a series of pops and crackles as the water quickly froze over, encasing the prince in the ice. Large silver drops of water scattered all around her, hovering in the air, and she smirked triumphantly.

“You little peasant!” Zuko spat from inside his icy prison. “You’ve found a master, haven’t you?”

The globule of ice began to glow a bright orange with heat and the ground rumbled. Katara ducked as the ice trapping Zuko exploded into a thousand shards.

Broken free, the prince was already on his feet. His nostrils flared and his mouth worked into a thin scowling line, the muscles pinching painfully at the red scar that stretched all the way to his left ear. Though tired and out of breath, he somehow looked strong, fanning the fire hot and bright as he resumed his attack. This time there was an unmasked fury to his assault, rage pounding in his fists and his feet as he volleyed the fire.

Wave after wave, Katara countered his attacks. She could feel the pressure drum in her ears and she became relentless too, building momentum as she went. Now they were directly in front of each other, so close that she could feel him trembling with white-hot rage. Her fists tightened painfully enough to crack, and suddenly they were launching themselves at each other in this now familiar battle for control in the midst of the chaos they had created. Fire licked, water roared and steam rose from the ground, from their clothes and from their skin.

Drawing a thick jet of water from the pool, Katara continued to deflect Zuko’s attacks. She was preparing to strike when he managed to slip past, skin grazing against skin. She turned in horror to see Zuko’s fingers grasp at Aang’s collar.

Now there was a fire burning in her own chest, and she roared out, striking Zuko with a mean blast of water that sent him tottering. With a deliberate flick and rounded arc of her wrists, she summoned forth a monstrous wave from the spring and threw it at the Fire Prince with all she had, knocking him upside the icy walls of the cliff. Her fingers curled and the water froze, pinning him against the wall and encasing him in ice.

She backed up towards Aang, her arms still raised in case Zuko should attack. However, the prince’s head was hanging limply to the side, his chin resting on the ice. She let out a shaky breath of relief and lowered her guard. She turned to look at Aang, thankful that he was all right.

Light spilled across the ground and she glanced up. Dawn was fast-approaching. The early morning sky was a deep, silky blue, and the moon had turned from silver to white. All was still. The only sound was her breathing and the gentle ripples of the waters as the fish swam in circles in the pond.

Then she saw it—the flash of the sun peeking over the horizon—and suddenly she felt fear. A scream of fury erupted from behind her and she whirled around in shock. Instinct took over and she tried to deflect the inevitable fire blast with a water shield, but it was too late. The force from Zuko’s fire sent her flying backwards and she slammed into a tree.

Katara tried to blink away the fuzzy pinpricks of stars that clouded her field of vision. She woozily shook her head and glanced up. The sun was burning brightly behind the silhouette of the Fire Prince who was now looming over her. He was holding up Aang by his collar.

“You rise with moon,” he said. “ _I_ rise with the sun.”

She tried to cry out, but there were no words. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. It was no use. It was like yelling at a dam that was breaking; she couldn’t prevent the inevitable flood. And with Zuko’s words still ringing in her ears, Katara slowly drifted into darkness.

* * *

“I CAN’T BELIEVE I lost him.”

It was all she could think of the moment she woke up. She had lost Aang, and now their enemy had him. The Avatar was vulnerable and it was all her fault.

“You did everything you could,” Sokka assured her. “And now we need to do everything we can to get him back. Besides, Zuko can’t have got far. We’ll find him. Aang’s gonna be fine.”

Katara glanced up at her brother and smiled weakly. Sokka was right. Though she’d never admit it, he almost always was. This was no time for her to be wallowing in self-pity. They had to find Aang.

“Okay.”

Jumping aboard Appa, the teenagers took flight in search of Aang and the Fire Prince. However, as they climbed high above the protective walls of the oasis, they quickly realised that the frozen tundra unveiled before them was a vast and unforgiving terrain. A blizzard raged, obscuring both land and sky; however, Appa continued onwards. If the sky bison wouldn’t be discouraged, neither would they.

“Don’t worry.” Princess Yue placed a hand on top of Katara’s. “Prince Zuko can’t be getting too far in this weather.”

“I’m not worried they’ll get away in the blizzard.” Katara glanced down at a large crack of ice on the tundra below and frowned. “I’m worried that they won’t.”

“They’re not going to die in this blizzard,” Sokka shouted over the howling wind. “If we know anything, it’s that Zuko never gives up. _They’ll_ survive and we’ll find them.”

Katara slowly nodded in agreement. Again, Sokka was right. Zuko never gave up. As long as he was alive, so was Aang. She just had to be as patient and determined as her enemies. For it was patience and discipline she lacked; all her life, she had known this strongly. She was a passionate person; her beliefs were why she fought. In her heart she knew her cause was the noble one. Even through all the toil and heartache she had endured, she knew it would all be worth it. At the end of the day she was happy in the knowledge that her life had purpose. They would find Aang alive. She just had to be patient and dedicated, like Zuko.

Suddenly, through the thick grey-white blizzard she saw it: a wide arc of bright-blinding energy cutting upwards through the air.

“Look!” She followed the light with her finger. “That’s gotta be Aang! Yip-yip!”

Sokka immediately pulled on Appa’s reins and the sky bison banked a hard left, following the light as it sped across the sky and landed on the ground below. Soon the light was lost and so were they as they searched for any sign of Aang. Shortly thereafter, the monk himself came barrelling out of what looked to be a cave buried in snow. His entire body was bound in rope, and Zuko was already on top of him, pulling him up by the collar.

“Appa!” Aang cried happily at the sight of his animal guide and his friends.

Appa landed and Katara slid off, ready to face Zuko again. During these past few months of travelling with the Avatar and constantly fleeing from the Fire Prince and the Fire Nation, there had arisen within the waterbender this black, terrible feeling. It wrestled with her very spirit. There was hatred for the teenager standing in front of her. How could this prince be so cavalier in his destruction? How could he not see the evil in what he was doing?

“Here for a rematch?” Zuko let go of Aang and raised his hands. He already looked tired and beaten; more so than before.

“Trust me, Zuko.” She effortlessly blocked his fire attack before gathering an avalanche of snow and ice. “It’s not going to be much of a match.”

The plan was to launch him up into the air with snow and ice, before allowing him to plummet to the ground. But with just the slightest miscalculation and haphazard slip of her wrist, the ice she had meant to encase him in shattered, breaking off into a dozen deadly shards that fanned out. A blade of ice the length of her finger spun in, slicing across Zuko’s throat like a warm knife carving through butter.

Katara screamed silently, stretching out her hand as though she could catch him. However, she was unable to do anything but watch the entire scene unfold in front of her as if it was happening in slow motion. She watched as Zuko’s face contorted in shock and then crumpled; watched as blood spurted from his neck and landed like crimson tears beneath his fading eyes; watched as his body fell with a thud onto the snow beneath his feet; watched as he disappeared beneath that snow without protest, his body twitching while he died.

When she finally realised what had happened, when she finally gathered air into her lungs to breathe again, she glanced up to see Aang staring at her with clouded, mystical eyes. He wasn’t looking at Zuko. He was looking at her, as if to ask her what she had done.

What had she done?

Sokka was already running towards Aang, untying his knots while the young airbender numbly stared ahead at the lifeless body half-buried in the snow. Katara hadn’t even noticed that her legs were already moving, stumbling across the tundra, before she was kneeling in front of the fallen prince.

She turned him over and checked for a pulse, but his face was already that deathly pale colour, whiter than the snow. The only colour was the red scar on his face and the blood-stained snow beneath him. However, this didn’t mean he was dead, she reasoned. Maybe she had only knocked him out. Maybe . . .

Summoning a thin stream of water, Katara placed the cold liquid over Zuko’s torn neck and watched the liquid glow a pale blue. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out, slowly, methodically. She concentrated hard but felt nothing. The chi in his body was gone. There was nothing left.

“Katara . . .” A distant voice called out to her, “Katara!”

A strong hand clamped down on her shoulder and squeezed gently. She opened her eyes and glanced up. Her brother was looking down at her with such sad eyes. How long had she been kneeling in the snow with her eyes closed?

“It’s too late, Katara. I’m sorry.”

She looked back down at Zuko. His lifeless golden eyes were staring up at her. She let go of the water, watching it wash away the blood on his neck, and took in a shuddering breath.

No, she hadn’t just knocked him out. The body lying in front of her was dead. Dark-haired Zuko, who looked as though at any moment he would wake up and choke out the frozen water in his lungs, coughing and spluttering indignantly. But he didn’t; he wouldn’t. He never would again.

 _No, no, no, no!_ Her mind was screaming, yelling no over and over again. It was like her head had broken off from her body and been thrown away. She couldn’t stop screaming.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, right? No, it couldn’t be.

“Aang—”

She turned to see the young monk crying silently beside her. It was almost unnoticeable. He stood very still, and the tears rolled down his pale cheeks without protest. She felt a vice in her heart tighten and she looked away. She could not dwell on why he was crying or it would make her cry too, and she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to stop once she started.

“K-Katara, we have to go.” It was Aang speaking now. His voice was soft and tremulous. She knew he didn’t want to leave Zuko there, but he was the Avatar and he had his duty. “We have to go back to the Spirit Oasis.”

“Go,” she said quietly. Her eyes were still fixed on the snow-white prince covered in blood. “I’ll stay here.”

“Katara.” Sokka stepped closer. “We can come back for the bo—”

“I said I’m staying!” She didn’t bother to turn around, didn’t bother to look her brother in the eye.

Aang and Sokka stood silently together. They knew her words were final, her tone brooking no argument. After a moment, they eventually turned away and left her with Zuko without protest. They took off into the air with Yue, and Katara was left alone.

She glanced down at the body and her hands began to tremble. Her bowels seemed weighted with lead. She hesitantly reached down to gently shut the eyes of the sleeping prince. Or at least that was what he looked to be doing. Sleeping. But this prince would never wake from his slumber.

The storm raged and roared around her, and she huddled around Zuko’s body for warmth. She waited for the black terror to come, as though waiting for some beast out of the night to attack her, but it didn’t come. Instead, there was a sort of descent, as though she was falling into the black depths of nothingness, until she finally touched the solid bottom of despair and had nowhere else to go.

* * *

BY NOW THE clouds outside had turned an angry shade of red. There was the smell of a storm in the air, much larger and more dangerous than the one currently brewing outside.

Katara involuntarily shuddered, pulling her coat about her as she shuffled towards the fire. She was all alone now, despite the audience of Zuko’s corpse, which she had dug out of the snow and dragged into the cave with her. She didn’t have to stay behind with his body. She could have waited in the cave alone, but she was desperate for company of any kind—desperate to face what she had done.

But where were the others? Were they still fighting? Did they care that she hadn’t joined them? Did they think she was dead, too? Maybe she was. Maybe that was her body lying on the snow, no longer breathing.

The thought turned her stomach and she retched until there was nothing left. It felt as though she was purging her soul. There was an emptiness inside her that could not be filled. It hurt. She could neither look ahead nor look behind, because all she could see was the present. All she could see was the dead boy lying next to her, the dead boy she had killed. There was no way to come back from this, no way to easily absolve her guilt—a guilt that threatened to consume her whole.

She rubbed the back of her hand across her mouth, wiping away the spittle and bile, and choked back a pitiful sob. This was the way things were, she told herself, and she couldn’t change them. She couldn’t bring Zuko back from the dead. She couldn’t change his fate no more than she could change her own.

Turning back towards the fire, Katara watched the flames dance. It was hypnotising. She yawned, trying to shake off the tiredness in her bones, but it was no use. Sleep beckoned her. She stretched out across the snow-packed ground, shifting until her head was at Zuko’s feet. She buried her chin inside her coat for warmth and closed her eyes, waiting for the numb blackness of unconsciousness to take her into its arms.

She could already feel the sodden heaviness filtering into her muscles, weighing her down until she could no longer move. And it was on the cusp of slumber when unrepentant thoughts assailed Katara all at once. They seemed to be petitioning answers from the gods themselves.

How could she carry on from here? How could she act as though nothing had happened? Why did she not just rest here upon the bottom of her utmost despair?

Katara didn’t know it yet, but in the great scheme of things, none of these questions really mattered. What was meaningful was the guilt that resided deep in her heart. It spoke to her of a task that she must undertake.

Even now, all was not lost, her heart told her; and, without question, she believed that voice. She would willingly obey and follow it into the unknown. For maybe it was a fool’s hope she possessed, but she had already taken the plunge.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

HE HAD EXPECTED Nirvana. He had pictured lush green hills and white shores stretching out before the endless expanse of a bright blue ocean, but it was just a murky, yellow marsh.

Sickly green rivers flowed all around him in unison, twin-tailing until they spilled off into a muddy brown pool. Beyond that was a frightening grey mist where he dared not go. This was Patala, the place where unbalanced souls resided. It was a sort purgatory where spirits were sent before being relocated to other realms. Here, the unsorted spirits waited for their negative karma to be used up so that they could be reincarnated into their next lives.

Zuko didn’t much care for Patala, for its lack of time and space or the feeling of a collective consciousness slowly guiding him to his next life. However, it was better than being sent to the lowest regions of Naraka: the realm where sinners were punished in eternal fire or ice. No, it was far better to remain here in purgatory meadows, letting himself be tugged along by invisible chains into the mists of the unknown.

Still, the waiting was unbearable.

The whole routine of it vaguely reminded of waiting in line for something, something one dreaded receiving, like a punishment or the results of an ill-fated firebending test. But this wasn’t school and there was no line or real order to speak of. The spirits wandered aimlessly about, but none come close enough to touch, not that they could if they wanted.

No one here talked, either. They all just waited—waited to be relegated to a proper realm, waited for their judgement, waited to be reincarnated. Zuko wondered how long before he would be sorted. It felt like he’d been standing in this grey, featureless meadow forever, casually observing the doldrums of an odd spiritual bureaucracy with a mixture of anxiety and trepidation. It was not unlike the nerves he’d felt before his first Agni Kai.

He didn’t think he had been evil enough for Naraka. Surely there were worse than he, men with crueller desires and wickeder deeds. His ambitions had always been noble, or at least he’d always assumed they were. He truly believed that he had achieved some good in his short lifespan. Everything he had ever done had been for the good of his nation and to restore his honour.

It would be foolish to hope for Svarga, the blessed, bountiful green fields and sky blue ocean set against the backdrop of snow-steepled mountains. Svarga was a heavenly realm reserved for the heroic and the virtuous. The burning scar on Zuko’s face was evidence alone that he did not belong there. He didn’t deserve to rest with the champions and the martyrs.

Eventually, he was ushered towards a spirit who glowed a touch more brightly than the others. He was less transparent too, less grey, wearing a red sash across his shoulder and chest. He appeared to be in charge of the sorting. A bureaucrat, if you will. He seemed to be taking down notes as well as giving information to the newly departed spirits. It was downright ridiculous to have such a system down here, but since no one questioned it, neither would Zuko.

“Name?”

Zuko’s brow creased as he frowned. “Zuko, Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation.”

The spirit with the red sash glanced up, regarding him dryly. “Your name is good enough. No titles are needed.”

Zuko scowled like a scolded child and cleared his throat, waiting for Red-Sash to continue with his questioning.

“Manner of death?”

“What?”

Red-Sash heaved a great sigh of frustration. “How did you die?”

Zuko’s lips pressed into a thin line. Shouldn’t they have known all of this? Why did he have to answer such stupid and obvious questions?

“A waterbender killed me—by accident.”

He felt he really had to emphasise the last part. There was no way that peasant killed him on purpose. After the Avatar, she was the next in running for Goody-Two-Shoes of the Year.

“I see.” Red-Sash hummed to himself, ticking off invisible items on an invisible list. “It will take a while to sort you into the proper level—we have to weigh your karma and all that. But before we can let you go back to the meadows to wait, there are some ground rules that you need to follow.”

Zuko’s brow furrowed deeply. There were rules in the Spirit World?

“First of all, you are a spirit in transition,” Red-Sash explained. “Your soul has yet to be processed and sent to a realm where you can pay off your karma until your next reincarnation. But you should know that even while waiting here, you can affect your process, effectively determining whether you stay in Patala or descend straight to Naraka.”

Zuko froze. Naraka? No, anywhere but there.

“Now, pay careful attention to what I’m about to tell you.”

Zuko nodded, patiently listening to Red-Sash’s warnings. And as the spirit continued to speak, the Fire Prince’s eyes began to widen in surprise.

No, he didn’t like it here. He didn’t like it here at all.

* * *

IT FELT LIKE she was falling, falling into a dark, limitless void. She wanted to scream, but there were no words. No sounds escaped her mouth.

Then there came the plunge.

Katara wasn’t sure which hit what first, her falling into the water or the water rising up to meet her. The water was wet and warm, warmer than it should have been, and thick. When she rose to the surface, she took in a great gulping gasp of air, but it didn’t fill her lungs. A heavy pressure built in her head as her hair swished around her face, and suddenly she was filled with a queer sort of emptiness.

Had she not been in the snow earlier? Had she not been somewhere else, some place brighter and colder?

Now she felt nothing, smelled nothing, tasted nothing. Nothing stretched out into infinity and the water began to drain away to an even darker place, and she could not help but follow with it. The next thing she knew, she was waking up near a swamp. Or was it a marsh? She didn’t recall ever seeing a marsh when they flew over the North Pole, but she was standing in front of one right now. A sickly green and fog-filled marsh in the middle of nowhere, and she had absolutely no idea how she got here.

Was this a dream?

She blinked back the cold terror of confusion and tried to collect her thoughts. She could have sworn she was lying in a cave hidden on the tundra. There was a blizzard raging outside and she had to curl up next to the fire to stay warm. But now she was standing in a dark, misty place she had never seen before.

Was she dead?

Katara looked out into the mist and breathed deeply before sighing. Wherever this place was, there had to be a reason for her being here. So after a moment, she decided to descend the hill and make her way closer to the swamp.

The walk felt eternal, and accompanying her was a dirty sort of cloud that swirled around her body like a filigree curl of smoke. When she finally reached the bottom of the hill, she felt tired, as if the very air was weighing her down. She stood in front of the fog-filled marsh and frowned. She could hear the sounds of trickling water, but she saw nothing. There was only the mist.

A breeze whispered in her ear and she turned, only to be confronted by a face—a dingy, ghostly grey-brown face. She gasped in surprise as the face dissolved back into the surrounding air. She took a staggering step back and clutched at her chest in terror. That was when she realised that the mist, the clouds that had been following her, were actually spirits.

Somehow, she had entered the Spirit World.

Still clutching at her breast, Katara breathed deeply and slowly. She tried to regulate her heartbeat as best she could. Now was not the time to panic. If she managed to get here on her own, then she could get out of here on her own.

She took a hesitant step forward and then another, the next step surer than the last, until she was trudging her way along the murky path towards the equally muddy river. The spirits of the dead, nearly translucent but many in number, had begun to crowd around her, obscuring her view of the river.

“Mom,” she whimpered.

She was trying her best to be brave but was failing. She wondered if her mother was here with all these lost souls. The thought saddened her and she shook it off, stepping through the throng of misty spirits. What was important was that she found a way out of here. She could freak out later when she was safely back in her own world. The living world.

Suddenly the cloud of spirits dispersed and she saw a yellow light shining out of the mist. The eerie light drew closer until she could hear the slick sound of a boat gliding through water. She squinted, making out the lines of a humanoid shape, and swallowed back her fear. The man was almost animal-like in appearance, with a human body and a monkey-like face. His skin was covered in a thin layer of fur, but his eyes were brown and very human.

He was the boatman, the conveyor of the dead.

The rickety boat docked on the muddy bank of the river and the boatman raised his lamp, dolefully examining Katara with his large, slow-blinking eyes. Then he stretched out a hand not too far removed from a monkey’s paw and shook a gnarled finger at her.

“You are not dead!”

“N-no.” She shook her head, agreeing hurriedly. “No, I’m not, but—”

“Then you are not welcome here.”

“But—”

“The Spirit World makes no exceptions for the living.”

“But—”

“Living spirits are not permitted here,” he growled. “Turn back.”

“But I don’t know how!”

“We make no exceptions—”

“That’s not true!” Katara snapped, her temper getting the best of her.

The boatman was silenced by her outcry. He stared at her with those wide, woeful eyes of his, and his hangdog expression almost made her regret her words. Almost. However, as much as she was afraid, as much as she wanted to leave this place, she knew there had to be a reason for her being here. It couldn’t have merely been chance.

Ignoring the rush of fear that flooded her body, Katara boldly stepped towards the rickety boat.

“There have been others who have come here,” she said. “Aang, for one.” She was fairly certain her brother was once brought into the Spirit World too by some spirit panda, but she had a feeling Sokka’s name wouldn’t hold the same sort of cache down here as the Avatar’s. “I am not the only living soul to ask entrance.”

“But you do not ask,” the boatman informed her snidely. “You demand.” There was a hint of a smirk twitching at the corners of his rounded lips. “Besides, the Avatar was able to cross the bridge to this world where no ordinary mortal can, and _you_ , miss, are no Avatar.” He extended a gnarled finger and pointed past her. “You must leave, now.”

She was about to give up and turn back when there was a loud murmur amongst the multitude of spirits crowding the riverbank. They began to part like the mist itself, letting through a tall, vibrant spirit. He was not grey or nearly as translucent as the others, and he drifted purposely towards her.

“Allow me to have a word,” the vibrant spirit said to the boatman, and the monkey-man nodded curtly before bowing in acquiescence.

Katara observed the exchange with an odd sense of wonderment before glancing up at the colourful spirit. She took in his features with a critical eye. He was exceptionally tall and broad-shouldered spirit with a barrel chest and long dark hair half-hidden underneath a white bear headdress. His eyes were a light blue, hard yet mischievous. He reminded her of her father for some reason, but she didn’t feel any security with the comparison.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I am Kuruk,” the spirit said.

Katara’s eyes widened like round blue saucers. “Kuruk?” His name sounded familiar and suddenly she remembered. “Are you—are you an Avatar?” She noted his dress, his skin, the colour of his eyes. “A waterbending Avatar?”

“That is correct,” Kuruk said. “And you are?”

“Katara—Katara of the Southern Water Tribe,” she said proudly. “Daughter of Hakoda and Kya.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Katara of the Southern Water Tribe.” He briefly inclined his head, causing the ears on his white bear headdress to flop forward. “May I ask why you are here?”

“I-I don’t know. I was sleeping and somehow I woke up here.” She motioned vaguely to their surroundings. “I guess I got lost.”

“The only lost souls down here are those who are no longer fettered to the mortal coil above.” She gave him a blank look and his eyes darkened. “The _dead_.”

“Oh.” Her throat clogged at the thought and she numbly ran her hands over her very solid body. “I don’t—I don’t think I’m dead.”

Kuruk chuckled darkly. “No, you are very much alive.”

“Then how am I here?” She glanced around in confusion. “I thought only the Avatar could bridge the gap between the living world and the Spirit World.” She didn’t want to admit that the boatman was right, but he was.

The grey mist built up around her again. The air was so thick with it that she was almost suffocating. It was the spirits closing in on her, but Kuruk let out a sigh that shook her like a breeze and the spirits quickly dispersed in fear, making their way back to the shore.

“It is true that only the Avatar has the power to come and go at will, but powerful spirits can lure mortals here as well.” A sad look briefly passed over the Avatar’s face and just as quickly was gone. “Then there are occasions when the door to the underworld becomes vulnerable, especially when one is in or near spiritual portals.”

“Like the Spirit Oasis!”

Kuruk inclined his head. “That is but just one door on earth.”

“There are more?”

“There are many more.”

Katara bit her lip in concentration. Something still didn’t seem quite right. “But I wasn’t at the Spirit Oasis when I somehow arrived here. I was in a cave on the tundra.”

“But you were there, weren’t you? You touched the sacred waters.”

She had. In fact, she had used the water from the oasis to fight against Zuko.

“You became connected the moment you touched the water, the moment the Avatar opened the gateway and left it vulnerable. As a waterbender, you are already tied to Tui and La.”

“Tui and La?” Her brow knit in confusion. “The moon and ocean spirits? I don’t follow.”

“Sometimes even powerful spirits ask favour from the gods and forsake their immortality to live on earth.” He gave her a pointed look. “Such was the fate of Tui and La.”

“ _Was_?”

Kuruk pointed to the greenish grey sky above. “Right now while your body rests on earth, the Moon Spirit is in danger. Someone looks to destroy her.”

“Her?”

“Tui, who dwells in the Spirit Oasis with La.”

Katara bit her lip even harder, trying her best to put two and two together. “The koi pond? A-are the koi Tui and La?”

Kuruk nodded. “The disruption of their ebb and flow has caused a crack in your world, connecting you to this one.” He pointed to a red moon in the distance. “But to be able to travel here without the aid of a powerful spirit or god takes more than a breach of one of the openings. Your own spirit must also be vulnerable.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“You are not the first living being aside from the Avatar to make your way here.” He motioned to the pitiful misty creatures behind them. “Others have come before you. Those who were brought here by powerful spirits and those who came here of their own free will, seeking loved ones.”

Katara quickly waved her hands in front of her face. “No, no, no! You misunderstand. I wasn’t brought here by anyone, and I certainly didn’t come here seeking anyone . . .” She paused on the last word and the image of Zuko’s pale, dead face flashed behind her eyes. “I-I don’t think.”

“The only way you are able to cross the bridge into this world is if your spirit is connected to one of the recently departed, on an intimate level.”

“An _intimate_ —” She stopped herself short and shook her head, horrified. It wasn’t like that. She didn’t care for the man she had killed. But that was it, wasn’t it? There was nothing more intimate than taking someone’s life, holding it in your hands and destroying it. “What if—what if I killed a man? _A boy_.”

“Then it is your guilt that brought you here.”

Her shoulders slumped forward in defeat. Was it really that simple? “Then how do I leave here?”

“The portal is right behind you.” He motioned to a stone gateway standing in the water that she was almost positive wasn’t there a moment earlier.

The gate itself appeared to be no more than an empty stone archway. Katara didn’t see her world on the other side, only the mossy-green river that was beset on all sides. Curious, she turned towards the gateway but found that she could not move. In fact, she appeared to be rooted to the spot.

“Why can’t I move?” She gritted her teeth, struggling in vain to break free of the invisible hold.

“Because your guilt keeps your spirit tethered here.”

“My guilt?” She stopped struggling and made a squeaking noise of frustration. “Well, how do I fix this?”

“Your guilt must be absolved.”

“How—how can I do that?”

Kuruk tilted his head and studied her carefully. “You already know the answer to that question.”

She was about to open her mouth and retort that she didn’t, when she realised that she did know. She needed Zuko’s forgiveness.

“But I don’t even know where he is or how to find him.”

Kuruk only smiled. “If you truly want to find him, you will.”

Katara twisted her mouth into a spectacular pout. Spirits and their double talk, saying everything and meaning nothing.

“But what if he doesn’t forgive me?”

“Then you will return to your world where you must learn to live with your guilt like all other mortals.” He shrugged indifferently. “But his forgiveness is not what concerns you, is it? You cannot forgive _yourself_.”

Katara shook her head, her braid bouncing off her shoulder. “I can’t. I took someone’s life.” She could feel the tears welling in her eyes, but she blinked them back. “How can I ever come back from that?”

The Avatar was silent for a moment, regarding her with a gentle look that might have been considered compassionate. “There is another way,” he said at last, and Katara’s chin snapped up.

“What? Tell me!”

“There is much risk involved.”

“I-I’ll do anything,” she pleaded, “just tell me.”

He paused, considering her words. “You can barter for his soul.”

“Barter for his soul?” She blinked, nonplussed. She had no idea what that meant, but she was sure that she could do it. “I can do that? How?”

“It’s complicated and, as I said, dangerous.” He took in a deep breath. “You must understand that even here there is balance. You cannot simply reclaim a soul and raise it from the dead. There must be a balance. You must give as you take. There must be a sacrifice.”

She swallowed hard. “What must I sacrifice?”

“That is for the gods to decide, for they are the ones you must convince to allow the boy to return with you to the living world.”

“And if I can’t—if I can’t convince them?”

Kuruk shook his head. “I cannot tell you the consequences; for in order for the gods to hear your plea, the act itself must be selfless. However, the real challenge is convincing this boy to return with you.”

“Why wouldn’t he want to return to the living?”

The Avatar shrugged. “Things are different down here. Souls are judged and time moves slowly, sometimes in circles.” He smiled thinly. “You will understand soon enough.”

“Please!” She felt desperate now. “Tell me more.”

However, Kuruk was already gliding away from her, back towards the water. “I cannot tarry any longer. Tui and La call out to me, and the Avatar too.” He waved in farewell. “He calls to all of us now.”

“Aang!” Suddenly she was running towards Kuruk. “Is he okay?”

“That is no longer your concern.” Kuruk’s voice was distant now. “You must quickly find the boy and convince him to return with you or else return alone.”

Katara stopped running and stood still on the banks of the marsh. Kuruk’s spirit was already too far away. “I will, Avatar Kuruk. Thank you!”

His voice was a whisper on the wind now, “Good luck, Katara of the Southern Water Tribe.”

She blinked, for just a half-second, and when she opened her eyes, he was already gone. Once again, Katara was alone.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

ZUKO SAT ON a rock and stared out into the sepia-coloured space. He was thinking. That was all he ever seemed to do nowadays. An errant thought surfaced in his mind and he found himself reminiscing about his uncle. Hadn’t he spent time in the Spirit World?

He remembered overhearing the rumours, the crewmen whispering about the Dragon of the West behind his back. What brought him to the Spirit World? Did he come of his own free will or was he summoned here by the spirits? What had he seen? Had he been afraid? Had he been seeking something, someone?

Zuko sighed. There were too many questions, too many thoughts drifting through his mind at once. It was difficult to tell one from the other, and time . . . Well, he had too much of it down here. Time ran slowly, if it ran at all. It felt like he’d been waiting in these meadows forever.

He wondered when he could leave here, when he would be allowed to return to the world above. He even fantasised what it would be like to escape the Spirit World, but then Red-Sash’s warnings would echo in his thoughts. He shuddered at the recollection. No, he dared not contemplate escape, for even he was not brave enough to face the consequences.

So Zuko continued to sit on the rock, thinking and waiting—waiting for time to pass him by.

* * *

KATARA DIDN’T KNOW how to find Zuko, and she was convinced that Avatar Kuruk was off his rocker to suggest that she would. She was just this single patch of colour in an otherwise misty grey universe. No, not grey—sepia, which was somehow even more depressing.

She was in a place known as the meadows, a section of the Spirit World where those whose lives were in an equal balance of good and evil came to spend their time. Here they waited to be sorted into the proper realm, so that they could be reincarnated. And while the name meadows might have sounded like a lovely place, it was clearly a misnomer. It was little more than a yellowing swamp filled with the formless dead.

There were a pile of rocks in a clearing to the far side of the river. No one seemed to be there, so Katara picked her way through the aimlessly floating spirits to the shady spot near the overhanging of a cliff. She supposed this was one of the divides between the meadows and another part of the Spirit World. It was slightly warmer here near the cliff, so she curled up on one of the rocks and wrapped her arms around her knees.

She felt so alone that she wanted to break down and cry, but she was terrified of being overrun by the spirits—spirits that bore shadowy faces with humanoid features yet had no spark of light in their eyes. Some had clearly been here for a long time. Their faces were almost worn away, their noses rubbed down, cheekbones gone, their lips mere lines against wispy grey. The recently deceased were recognisable as humans at least, more solid than the others, but even they seemed lost inside their own heads. They brushed past each other without a word, and Katara morbidly wondered if she would end up looking as vacant.

Sighing, she glanced up at the greenish grey sky. Was it always evening here? She wanted to leave this place, to abandon everything and return home, but her pride had immobilised her. She wanted to show herself, and even Avatar Kuruk, that she was worth taking a chance on, and that her stubbornness had the power to match it. But how would she find Zuko in this mass? And what would she say to him?

Zuko—arrogant, scarred, determined, golden-eyed Zuko. Her lip curled at the thought of him. Was she really rescuing a man, who had done nothing but hunt down her friends, from the land of the dead? Was she really risking her sanity to bring this boy back to life just so that he could try to capture the Avatar again?

As if on reflex, she yawned, unable to dwell upon the thought any longer. The weariness she felt from before had finally crept into her bones and fatigue overtook her. She could barely keep her eyes open. She began to sway and then caught herself.

After a moment, she gave in and curled up on the craggy stone. When she was almost asleep, when her respiration had slowed to the point where her body reached a semi-conscious state, there came a rustling sound from above.

“Well, if it isn’t the water peasant,” a familiar voice rasped. “So who killed you?”

* * *

HE SAW HER before she saw him. She was a beacon of light in the midst of the greyish, foggy gloom. He spotted her huddled on top of a rock, lying between the great divide. She was totally out of place with her vibrant solid body and bright blue eyes. And he wasn’t the only spirit to notice her. Her very presence had drawn the attention of the envious dead.

 _What is that peasant girl doing here?_ Zuko asked himself with a frown. Before he even realised it, he was pushing his way through the crowd towards her.

For a moment, he thought she was dead. She was too bright to be a spirit, too bright to be one of them, but she had that vague, lost look that he identified already with many of the spirits around here, and that troubled him for some reason.

“So who killed you?” he asked, before he could stop himself. He certainly knew he didn’t.

Katara’s eyes snapped open and now Zuko really knew for certain that she wasn’t dead. There was too much ice in those ocean-blue eyes of hers for her not to be living.

“No one killed me,” she said in the mumbling tone of someone who was about to fall asleep. “I’m the one who killed you.”

That she did.

“Why are you here, then?”

“I came to get you out of here.”

He snorted derisively. He imagined her tone would be far more accusatory if she were fully awake, far angrier. He couldn’t remember ever having a civil conversation with her, except maybe the time he tied her to a tree. He inwardly winced at the memory. Regardless, this waterbender had been a thorn in his side since the moment he had first met her, and now she had followed him into death?

“You’re falling asleep,” he groused impatiently.

Her head rolled limply to one side and she struggled to keep her eyes open. “Am not,” she protested like a small child, and then promptly fell asleep.

Zuko could only roll his eyes at her and sigh. He had a feeling she was already plummeting his karma just by being here.

* * *

KATARA SLOWLY WOKE in a daze. Her neck was sore and her limbs were aching. She turned and yawned, meeting the eyes of scores of spirits, all standing as though placed in a line. There was exactly a five foot berth around her in all directions, but just beyond that point were crowds and crowds of the dead, all gazing at her.

She felt the panic bubble inside her chest, but a hasty glance about revealed the guardian who had been keeping the dead away from her. Zuko. He sat beside her, his elbows propped on his knees and his head in his hands, glaring out at the gathering of dead beyond them.

He looked the same as she remembered him, with his long black hair tied back in the familiar top knot. Except his colouring was ashen now, as were the plain clothes he wore. The red scar on his face was the only visible colour, along with his eyes—bright golden and smouldering with unmasked contempt.

He frowned menacingly at a little girl who was peeking at Katara and her bright blue eyes—watching her with her own grey eyes filling with unmasked envy. Katara’s heart twinged with sadness, but Zuko tossed his head angrily, a get-out-of-here motion, and the little spirit-girl fled at once. Something shifted in the onlookers’ faces, which must have alerted him to Katara’s wakening, for Zuko had abruptly turned towards her. He took in her unfurling body with pressed lips and a steady expression.

“Sleep well?” There was haughtiness to his tone, but there was no steel behind his words.

“Yes,” she lied.

Her back was cramped and her legs were sore. She was coming down from the high, the loss of adrenaline she had been feeding on since their first fight back at the oasis. However, since arriving here, she had nothing to fight for, and so the chi that had once been boiling in her veins was now dissipating at an alarming rate. She felt tired and heavy. Weak.

“Good,” he said. “Then get up. We have some talking to do.”

Zuko stood up and Katara’s eyes traced his movements, taking in his whole change in appearance and demeanour. Now that she was fully awake and somehow less terrified than the night before (if there was such a record of time down here), she could see that everyone else was as grey and translucent as he was, except Zuko’s scar and his eyes still held tinges of colour. Everyone else, however, looked the same. They were all terrifying in their uniformity.

“Get up, would you!”

She glared at him fiercely and stood—because she wanted to, not because he ordered her.

“Who put you in charge of me?” She angrily tossed her braid over her shoulder. “I’m the one who came here to get you and now here you are. Where’s the exit to this place? I’m ready to go!”

She strode forward to grab his hand and pull, but her fingers slipped right through his. She stopped, her mouth gaping.

“Come on,” he muttered, and then glowered at her. “Are all good guys this dim-witted?”

He pushed through the crowd and she followed in the path he created. She tried not to notice the prickling of her neck hairs with the way she was being stared at.

They walked across the meadows for a long time, until they reached another river, a smaller, less murky one. There was more fog here than anywhere else, but it was relatively deserted. Zuko pointed to a rock and ordered her to sit. Even when angry, he sounded proper. He was a prince, after all. If only he wasn’t transparent, she might actually be intimidated by him.

“I’ll sit when I want to!” But then, of course, in that moment she wanted to sit. She began to shift on her feet, aching to take a seat.

“I have no idea what you are doing here, but you are leaving now,” he said without preamble.

Katara nodded sharply. “Agreed. And you’re coming with me.”

“No.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Don’t you want to be alive again?” Her eyebrows all but disappeared into her hairline. “I’m offering to take you back!”

“You offer me nothing,” he said dryly. “The gods have to decide whether I return or not. Truth be told, I don’t want to return.”

She furrowed her brow in confusion. “What? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t expect you to!” he snapped. “This is none of your concern, waterbender. Return to your world.”

She wanted to snap at him, but then she caught sight of the scar across his throat—the one she had given him—and she looked away. Shame spread throughout her body like a wildfire.

“But I—I-I killed you.”

“Yes, I realised that when I arrived here,” he snarked, then threw her a contemptuous look. “You were lucky, by the way.”

“Lucky?”

“I was already exhausted before I fought you the first time. And the second time you were only able to defeat me through stupidity and sheer luck.”

“ _Stupidity_?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, or that she was repeating his words like a poorly trained iguana-parrot.

“Oh, so you _meant_ to explode the ice into a dozen deadly shards?”

Her finger was already in his face while her other hand was resting on a jutted hip. “Listen here, you arrogant little—”

“What am I to you?”

She dropped her hand and stood up straight. “W-what?”

“I asked—what am I to you?” His eyes, the only part of him that looked completely solid, bored into her with accusation. “Why do you need to take me back? To appease your guilt? Well, if that’s all you’re looking for, then you’re forgiven. I forgive you. Now leave.”

“Look—” Her voice softened, almost pleadingly. “Would you just let me take you out of here, preferably in one piece?” When he didn’t even bother to look at her, Katara had to stop herself from stomping her foot in frustration. “What kind of idiot would want to stay here, anyway?”

“The kind who cannot find honour above.”

“Honour?” She threw up her hands. “Again with the honour thing!”

“Look!” he snapped, nostrils flaring. “Things are different now. This place—”

“What? How have things changed? You’ve been here, what, a few minutes and suddenly your views on life and death have drastically altered?”

“A few minutes?” He literally scoffed in her face. “You have no idea.”

“Then tell me.”

She folded her arms beneath her breasts and waited patiently, or at least as patiently as someone like her could. Zuko met her eyes, saw the look of dogged determination there, and tsked in one part annoyance, the other part resignation. Like him, she would never give up.

He sighed and took a seat on the rock, bringing his misty fingers to his forehead. “Time runs differently here. It might feel like a few minutes have passed for you, but for me it’s been _years_. Years left alone with only my thoughts. And I’ve decided that I’m not going back.”

“Are you saying you _want_ to be dead?” A look of utter incredulity washed over her features. “Are you saying that you want to stay here in this limbo for—for the spirits only know how long?”

“I’m saying things are better this way.”

“ _Better_? For whom? I swear—” She stood over him, brandishing her finger at him like a weapon. “I swear if you weren’t already dead, I’d—”

“Kill me?” He said it so casually that she wasn’t quite sure she’d heard him right. “How convenient for you that I’m already dead.” There was no bitterness in his tone, but his eyes were shining in such a way that she immediately swallowed back the biting retort lingering on her tongue. “So you agree I’m better off down here, then?”

“That’s not—”

“Great.” He was already back on his feet, towering above her so that she had to take a stumbling step back. “It’s settled, then.” He began ushering her towards the other side of the river. “Now let’s send you on your way.”

She turned around. “ _Zuko_ , you are coming with me.”

He stopped abruptly and their eyes met with sudden force. There was a pang of sadness in her chest at the thought that those vibrant golden eyes were going to burn out like all the others down here.

“I’m not coming with you,” he said.

“Why? What are you so scared of?”

“What?” His tone was like ice and she lifted her chin haughtily.

“I asked, why are you so scared? Are you just that afraid of life?”

He bit down on his bottom lip with such ferocity that she winced. She knew, _knew_ , that he was nothing but mist, but he was so intimidating right now that she couldn’t help but be frightened.

“I am not scared!” he growled. His grey face was only inches from hers. “You waltz down here with your pretty blue eyes and your woeful bleeding heart and you presume to know me, to know everything there was to know about life and death. Tell me, what do you know about being afraid?”

His voice was a raging roar now. She was too overwhelmed to speak, too shocked at his vehemence. His lips curled into an ugly sneer and he glared at her hotly for a moment before spinning around to leave. However, in that moment, Katara finally found her voice.

“Wait! I—I can’t live with the fact that I killed you.”

Zuko stopped and turned around. His eyes darted to hers with frustration. “You’re going to have to.”

“Please, Zuko.” Her voice wobbled in her throat. “Please come back with me. I don’t know what you’ve gone through down here, and I don’t know what makes you so hesitant to return, but—but I promise to help you however I can. You won’t be alone.”

“What if I like being alone,” he replied irritably.

“No one wants to be alone.”

He went silent for a moment, and then, “Don’t you realise that by bringing me back, I might just go back to the way I was—mindlessly pursuing the Avatar and hurting those you love?”

“And what if you don’t?” she fired back. “What if you come back and you’re given a second chance? You once told me that you wanted something that was taken from you: your honour. But honour cannot be given or taken away. You must earn it yourself. You have to restore your own honour by doing what’s right.”

He said nothing at first. He merely scowled at her, and then he spoke, “Are all the good guys this optimistic?”

She smiled thinly. “Only me.”

“Thank the spirits.”

“Please, Zuko,” she pressed, hoping she had found an opening. “I know this is selfish of me to ask, but you have to try. We may not even get out of here, but—but you’ve got to try, because I can’t be responsible for your death.”

“You already are,” he said bitterly.

“I know.” She nodded slowly, head bowed. “I know that, but—but you’ve got to come back with me. You’ve got to try.”

Zuko watched her with an uncertain expression on his face. There were real tears tracking down her cheeks now, and he suppressed a noise of utter impatience. He stepped forward, still uncertain, but sensed the need for action.

“You didn’t condemn me,” he murmured softly. “It was just something that was meant to be.”

The tears didn’t stop, but they slowed. Katara looked up at him carefully, trying to decipher the reason for his kindness. But then she realised that he was sad, too. She had never seen Zuko with anything but an expression of haughty indifference or raging anger, but now he was looking at her with something akin to pity or even sympathy.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, stumbling back to sit on the rock. “I’m so sorry.”

Zuko sighed heavily and, after a moment, sat down beside her, perching his cloudy form on the very edge. She turned to face away, holding her head in her hands. She didn’t want him to see her crying. She didn’t want to watch him pity her.

So they sat together, in silence.

* * *

ZUKO SAT ON the rock, silently fuming. Katara didn’t know it, of course, but she had asked him the unthinkable. She honestly believed that she was saving him. If she knew the truth, if she knew what the consequences were for the both of them attempting to leave, would she still try?

He shook his head with a grimace. Yes, the optimistic fool probably would.

“I don’t want to leave here knowing that you suffer like this every day,” she whispered. “Not because of me.”

Her plea was hoarse and ragged, and he couldn’t even conjure a response. He only stared down at her fragile figure with resignation. After a moment, he began to trace her profile, following the curve of her forehead, the smooth line of her nose down to the soft bow of her mouth. When he began to trace the slope of her chin to her throat, he noticed the blue pendant on her neck and touched the jagged scar on his own throat.

She would never forget, he told himself. She would never give up. She was a lot like him—too much, in fact. While he was suffering down here, she would be suffering up there, and he would not be responsible for anyone else’s guilt and pain besides his own.

From the moment she took his life and descended into this world to retrieve him, their souls had become intrinsically linked. They were bound by death—his death. Why did it have to be her to come get him? Why not her brother or the Avatar? They would have dealt with his negative answer strongly, not crying or begging, causing him so much grief and guilt. Well, maybe the Avatar would have cried . . .

Grimacing, Zuko turned to look back down at the river. The world of the dead was silent all around them. He could hear the river trickling in the distance. For anyone else he would never consider returning to the living world, but for this girl—for some unknown reason, he was less sure.

“Get up.”

She sat up straight in terror, staring up at him with those wide moonlit eyes. He exhaled a growl and glowered. Damn those woeful eyes. Damn her.

“Get up,” he repeated, glaring at her.

“What’s wrong?”

“We’re going.”

“Going where?”

“Back to the land of the living.”

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

ZUKO LED KATARA to a place known as The Gates. It was really more of a stone archway than a gate, much like the portal that initially deposited her into the Spirit World. Except this archway was black and massive and, as far as Katara could tell, there was absolutely nothing on the other side. It was just blank white empty space, which terrified her more than she’d like to admit.

“You can’t take me home yet,” Zuko informed, as they made their way to the frightening black structure. “You still have to bargain for my soul, so you’d better be up for it.”

“What?” Her eyes all but bulged out of their sockets. “Bargain? Nobody told me I’d have to bargain for your soul!”

“How did you think you’d get me out of here? Did you think you could just walk out of here with me the way you came?”

Yes, she thought to herself with a frown.

“I belong here,” he said. “They’re not going to let me go without some convincing.”

“B-but what am I going to say?” She was beginning to panic. “I’m the one who sent you here. Is that going to work in my favour or against?”

He shrugged indifferently. “How should I know? Just think up something.”

“Think up _what_?”

“I don’t know! I’m not exactly an expert here!” he snapped. “This is my first time being dead, as well as trying to raise myself from the dead.”

“B-but surely there’s been a precedent, aside from the Avatars.”

Katara began to nervously chew on her bottom lip and scanned her brain for stories. Was there something her mother and father taught her when she was young, something half-remembered from her childhood? Who visited the Spirit World and returned with a soul? Who succeeded in such a task?

“My uncle travelled to the Spirit World,” Zuko remarked absently, and Katara was suddenly elated.

“He did? Why? How?”

“I’m not exactly sure.” He shrugged uncomfortably as she pressed near him, or as near as she could to his incorporeal form. “I never asked and he never told.”

“Well, what use are you?” She muttered a curse under her breath, and he scowled peevishly. “I’m almost certain it’s always a case of two lovers.”

“I don’t think my uncle came here to find his lover,” Zuko said slowly, although he seemed to be considering the notion.

Katara shook her head in frustration. “No, what I mean is that most of the tales I vaguely recall as a child involved a lover pleading his case before the great spirits. Something about his grief over the death of his loved one made him vulnerable to enter the Spirit World. His undying love then convinced the gods to let his lover’s soul return to the living world. Or something like that,” she added hurriedly.

“Yeah, I’m not going to be your lover,” Zuko said with an air of finality that made her pause.

“What? Why not? It’s just pretend!” And then, as though realising she actually sounded disappointed by his proclamation, an angry blush crept onto her cheeks and she turned away. “I don’t like the thought, either.”

“All I’m saying is that it probably isn’t wise to so boldly lie to the gods.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” She brought her fingers below her ear and scratched. She couldn’t argue with him on that. “Then what?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged again. It was all he seemed to do when answering her. “You’re the one who is supposed to plead my case, not the other way around.”

Before long they reached the entrance to The Gates. Katara got a kink in her neck when she tilted her head back to take it all in. The structure was massive, even bigger than the gate she came through. A spirit guard stood beside the archway and asked them for their names and purpose.

Katara turned to Zuko for an explanation, thinking his lordly manners and appearance would somehow win over the guard, but the spirit refused to even hear him out.

“We don’t listen to the requests of the dead,” the spirit said in a monotone voice. “Only the living. State your names and purpose.”

Sweat broke out on Katara’s forehead. She exchanged an apprehensive glance with Zuko. Great. How could she be expected to plead their case and convince the guard to let them through? She had never been the persuasive type. That had always been Sokka’s department. He’d think up something quick on the fly, win over this spirit as well as the gods themselves. But Katara was just Katara, not her brother, not someone who had a way with words. She was just going to have to cobble together something convincing if she wanted to get Zuko and herself out of here.

“Names and purpose,” the spirit repeated mechanically.

“Katara and Zuko,” she said. Her heart was beating so loudly in her chest that she could feel the vibrations in her ears. “I want to bring him back.”

“To the living?”

“Yes!” she snapped. “Where else would I want to bring him?”

The guard was looking at her properly now and she stared back, holding her ground. She was putting on a convincing show, and she hoped he didn’t notice how her fists were locked tight and trembling ever so slightly at her sides. Her bottom lip started to quiver, but she bit down on it so hard that she was almost certain she had drawn blood.

The guard scrunched his misty nose and eventually relented, standing to the side. “You may enter.”

The gateway slowly opened and Zuko and Katara stepped inside. One hurdle down and who knew how many more to go? She would just have to come up with a plan to convince the gods to let her take Zuko back to the living on their way there. Somehow, she would find a way. She had to.

* * *

KATARA DIDN’T KNOW exactly when they had passed through the portal because her eyes were shut tightly the entire time. Something about walking into a blank-white empty space with no sky and no visible ground beneath her feet made her head spin with vertigo.

“You can open your eyes now,” Zuko said monotonously, though she swore she could hear the eye-rolling in his tone.

Katara hesitantly opened her eyes, expecting to be disoriented by a canvas of white nothingness. Instead, she was greeted with deep blue skies and green pastures that stretched out towards an endless turquoise sea. Smiling, she looked to her right and spied a small stream that ran into a crescent-moon shaped pool no wider than twenty paces. Tiny green and silver fish darted to and fro, their silvery scales sparkling from the sun reflecting off the waters’ surface. Beyond the stream was a field of fire lilies in bloom, blood-red orange like the setting sun. Their scent carried on the breeze and she inhaled, watching as broken petals floated in the air and settled onto the pond, creating ripples in the water.

“Where are we?” She turned around to see that the gateway behind them was no longer visible.

Zuko said nothing, taking in the scenery with a look of sad remembrance. She was about to ask how they intended to find where they needed to go while stuck in a lily field, when a powerful voice addressed them.

“Welcome, living and dead, to the road of the past.”

The teenagers spun around to find two things that were not there before: a long cobblestone road cutting a path through the fields and a vibrant spirit dressed in plum red Fire Nation robes. The spirit itself was tall and pale, with long white hair and a matching beard.

“Avatar Roku!” Katara and Zuko gasped in unison.

The two benders exchanged confused glances and Avatar Roku slowly inclined his head, his hands hidden in the folds of his sleeves.

“I am your guide,” he said, directing his gaze at Zuko. “And your link to the past.”

Katara wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but then she hadn’t been sure of anything since arriving in the Spirit World. Zuko didn’t seem to understand, either, if indicated by the way his misty brow furrowed in a vain attempt to decipher Roku’s words. However, neither teen had the time to ask questions before the Avatar was flourishing his arm, pointing to the stone path ahead.

“In order to reach your destination, you both must journey down the path of the past.” His eyes were on Zuko again, who only looked away, but Katara could not remain as reticent as her companion.

“What’s at the end of this path?” she asked. “What’s our destination?”

The Avatar tucked his arms back into his sleeves. “At the end of this road lies the palace of Varuna, supreme god of the underworld, and the only spirit who can grant a departed soul’s return to the living world.”

Katara’s eyes instantly brightened.

“However,” Roku added ominously, “keep in mind that you have but two options to consider before you take this path: to go forward or turn back. Turn back and you, Katara, will be returned to the land of the living.” His gaze was fixed on Zuko now. “And you, Zuko, will be sent back to the meadows of purgatory.”

Katara let out a sigh of relief at this. That didn’t seem so bad. Then she felt the Avatar’s eyes on her again and she froze.

“You must decide wisely,” the Avatar said. “For if you turn back now, you may never return for him or any other soul. And should you decide to go forward down this path, you cannot turn back.”

Roku paused, giving Katara a look that wordlessly asked her if she understood. She nodded mutely.

“Good. I will give you time to discuss the matter.”

The Avatar drew away, drifting back into the fields. When he was out of earshot, Katara turned to Zuko. He was silently staring at her. He looked uneasy, almost ill. Why was he so afraid?

“I don’t want to face my past,” Zuko said, his eyes darting to the stone path ahead. “And I don’t want you to have to face it, either.”

There was something in his voice and on his face, a sort of resigned sadness that made her almost contemplate his words. However, she had not travelled this far to turn back now. She would save him whether he liked it or not.

“Want to turn back now?” She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Fine. Go ahead, _Your Highness_ , but be prepared to face my wrath.”

Zuko studied her for a long, hard moment, his nostrils flaring with indignation. Finally, he shook his head. “No, I’d rather be lost at sea with two broken legs than deal with your anger.”

“You’re damn right!” Katara smirked triumphantly before pointing a finger at the path ahead. “Now let’s get a move on.”

“So you have made your decision?”

Avatar Roku was floating back towards them. Katara nodded her answer with determination. She glanced over her shoulder at the grim and far less-determined Zuko.

“Yes, we have,” she said. “We are taking the road to the past.”

Roku smiled genially, and then his body began to fade. Well, it didn’t quite fade. It was almost like he was a pillar of sand disintegrating in a strong breeze. Katara’s mouth worked soundlessly as she watched parts of the Avatar being carried off on the wind.

Wasn’t he supposed to be their guide? And how far down this path were they supposed to travel? She turned to look at Zuko. He was staring off in the distance, observing the stream that ran parallel to the stone path.

Without any more words exchanged, the two began their walk down the road. Katara still wasn’t sure where this palace was. All she could see was a stone path cutting through a field that led towards the ocean. And that was when she noticed that the scenery had changed. It wasn’t as vibrant as it once was. It was as though a soft light had been thrown on the scene. Everything was muted; the flowers were dull and colourless.

“Aww.” Katara found herself pouting. “Where did all the pretty go?”

Zuko didn’t answer. His gaze was fixed on the path, occasionally shifting to the stream beside them, which had widened. Only the stream had retained some of its colour, a clear bluish-grey. White mist rose from its surface, swirling into distinctly humanoid features. They were images—images of people and places drawn in the mist.

The mist began to take shape, becoming solid, and Katara saw a little boy with dark hair. He was barely two, maybe three years old, and he was holding onto a pink, crying baby. Their eyes were both golden amber, and the little boy was smiling down at the baby with obvious affection.

Katara heard a woman’s voice: _“Zuko, this is your sister, Azula.”_

The boy smiled down at the pink baby who was no longer crying. In fact, she was holding onto his finger with her tiny fist, gazing at it with utter fascination as she blew bubbles on her tongue.

 _“Ahzuwa,”_ the little boy whispered. _“I’m your big brother.”_

The solid images turned back into mist, settling into the waters as though nothing had happened, and Katara involuntarily shuddered.

“You looked happy,” she said.

“Yeah . . .” He brushed past her. “Times change.”

* * *

THEY WALKED A little farther, gaining a few yards (she really couldn’t tell, as it didn’t feel like they’re getting anywhere at all), when another series of images formed from the mist.

Young Zuko was sitting with a woman by a small pond. She looked to be his mother. They were laughing and feeding the little turtle-ducks that swam in circles as they tried to catch the bits of bread. His mother held him closer then, and Katara felt a sudden pang of longing in her chest.

“Is that your mother?” He nodded, unable to tear his gaze away from the image. “She’s beautiful.”

Zuko didn’t respond. He just kept walking ahead, allowing the misty images to return to the water. As they continued onwards, new images began to surface from the stream, flitting by so quickly that she could barely register them all. Finally, a much larger scene unfolded. This time a young girl with golden eyes like Zuko’s was standing in a green courtyard. Was this his sister, Azula?

The girl was attempting a cartwheel but had fallen. Behind her was another little girl in pink with a long braided ponytail. She ran forward and performed the move with ease, topping it off with several somersaults. Azula pushed the girl over and laughed coldly.

Off to the side was another girl with jet black hair done up in odango twin-tails. She watched the other two girls with uninterested eyes, though her gaze surreptitiously flitted back and forth to young Zuko, who was watching the girls with boyish curiosity.

Next, Azula was placing an apple on the top of the head of the girl with the odango hairstyle and set it ablaze. Young Zuko rushed forward, trying to knock the burning apple off the girl’s head but tripped instead. Both children came crashing down into the fountain, landing on top of each other.

_“Girls are crazy!”_

Katara could barely suppress a giggle as she watched the younger Zuko storm off in a huff, water dripping everywhere. He really hadn’t seemed to change much since then, except he was taller now—and scarred.

The next scene showed his mother reading a letter that caused the siblings to laugh boisterously, and then she was handing them what appeared to be presents. To Zuko, she handed a pearl inlaid dagger. He was examining it closely, but Katara couldn’t make out the inscription.

“What does it say?” she asked, and Zuko’s misty brow wrinkled.

“Made in Earth Kingdom.”

She did a double take. “Did—did you just make a joke?”

When he didn’t reply, she turned back to observe the scene. His sister had received a pretty doll, much to her obvious displeasure. Azula and Zuko then began to argue, but the sound was garbled. Suddenly, it cleared:

 _“How would you like it if cousin Lu Ten wanted Dad to die?”_ Zuko shouted.

Azula merely shrugged. _“I still think our dad would make a much better Fire Lord than his royal tea-loving kookiness,”_ she said, before setting the doll on fire.

Katara swallowed nervously. She felt like she had just overheard something she wasn’t meant to—but then she could say that about all of Zuko’s memories thus far.

As the scene began to fade and the images returned to the stream, she turned to Zuko and said, “That’s one special sister you’ve got there.”

He grimaced. “You don’t even know the half of it.”

* * *

THEY CONTINUED FARTHER down the path, but the sea was getting no closer. Brief images drifted here and there from the stream, but nothing solid or important enough to make them stop.

Katara watched Zuko from the corner of her eye. He seemed different somehow. Distracted. Then mist began to lift from the water again, creating more images. Another solid memory.

Young Zuko was kneeling in a large room with his sister and mother. With them were two other men: one quite old, perhaps Zuko’s grandfather, Azulon, and the other looked like an older, scarless version of himself, Zuko’s father, Ozai. It appeared that the children were firebending for their grandfather.

Azula went first, performing flawlessly.

 _“She is a true prodigy,”_ Ozai said with a proud smile. _“Just like her grandfather for whom she’s named.”_

Azula resumed her seat next to her brother and whispered, _“You will never catch up.”_

Looking eager to prove his sister wrong, Zuko rose to demonstrate his bending. The smile on his father’s face swiftly turned into a frown.

Katara watched, cringing slightly, as young Zuko stumbled with the same form his sister so effortlessly used. Azula smirked viciously from the side-lines. Zuko tried again but fell to the ground.

_“I failed.”_

Katara felt another pang in her heart. She didn’t know why she felt so sad. This was Zuko, after all. Her enemy. However, seeing a little kid try so hard and fail, and believe that he had dishonoured himself and his family, just tugged at her heartstrings. No child should be put through so much pressure.

The scene changed. Zuko and Azula were now hiding behind a pair of thick red curtains. They were eavesdropping on their father and grandfather’s conversation. Katara heard Ozai mention something about his brother, Iroh:

_“Father, you must have realised, as I have, that with Lu Ten gone, Iroh’s bloodline has ended. After his son’s death, my brother abandoned the siege at Ba Sing Se, and who knows when he will return home! But I am here, father, and my children are alive.”_

_“Say what it is you want,”_ Azulon growled.

_“Father, revoke Iroh’s birthright. I am your humble servant, here to serve you and our nation. Use me.”_

Azulon leaned forward and pointed a gnarled finger at his son. _“You dare suggest I betray Iroh, my first-born?”_ Fires rose from the trenches. _“Directly after the demise of his only beloved son? I think Iroh has suffered enough. But you, your punishment has scarcely begun!”_

Young Zuko ran to his room, leaving his sister behind. He threw himself on his bed with a whimper. Katara could only frown as she watched the young boy’s entire body tremble with terror.

Azula finally entered the room with an evil smirk on her face. _“Dad’s going to kill you,”_ she sing-songed, and then stopped to leer at him. _“Really, he is.”_

_“Ha-ha, Azula. Nice try.”_

_“Fine, don’t believe me.”_ She shrugged nonchalantly. _“But I heard everything. Grandfather said Dad’s punishment should fit his crime.”_ She imitated Azulon, _"You must know the pain of losing a first-born son by sacrificing your own!"_

_“Liar!”_

Azula sat down beside him. _“I’m only telling you for your own good. I know, maybe you could find a nice Earth Kingdom family to adopt you.”_

 _“Stop it! You’re lying!”_ He held onto his blanket as though it could save him from her words. _“Dad would never do that to me.”_

The images started to break apart, pooling around Zuko’s feet. He watched them with a blank expression. His back was turned to Katara and his head was bowed. She had no idea what he was thinking—she wasn’t sure she wanted to know—but the words tumbled out of her mouth anyway.

“Was she telling the truth?” she asked.

There was no way she could be. No father, certainly no father of a prince, would kill his own son. This was simply sibling rivalry. Katara was fairly certain Zuko’s sister was playing with a few cards short of a full deck, but she couldn’t have possibly been so cruel. She had to have been lying, and yet—

“Azula always lies,” Zuko said in a distant voice. “Azula _always_ lies.”

Katara frowned. His answer, meant to console her (or maybe just himself), only convinced her otherwise.

* * *

THEY TOOK A break in the middle of the road. Zuko sat off to the corner while Katara settled herself near the water, watching the tiny silver fish swim upstream. Zuko didn’t seem to want to go any farther, and the memories didn’t seem to pop up when they weren’t moving down the path.

Katara wasn’t quite sure why he had chosen now to stop. While she normally would have considered having a discussion about it, the Fire Prince had proven to be the rather reticent sort. So the only thing she could do now was wait patiently until he gathered his nerves again—whenever that would be.

After a few minutes, she became increasingly impatient. She had never been one to dally. She was a firm believer in ripping the bandage off as quickly as possible.

“Why are we sitting here?” She poked her finger into the stream. It was cool to the touch but not wet. It was as though she had simply stuck her finger into foggy air. “Shouldn’t we be moving forward?”

Zuko ignored her, as usual, which only further aggravated her sour mood. Then Katara stood up and quickly marched over to where he was sitting. Incorporeal or not, she wanted to slap him upside the head. But then she wondered how she would have felt being forced to relive her past and having her enemy watch it with her.

“I’m not ready to face some of these memories quite yet,” he finally said.

Katara opened her mouth and closed it just as promptly. She hadn’t really expected him to answer her, especially not so honestly.

“I just need a moment.”

Katara let out a shallow breath and begrudgingly sat down beside Zuko. With just a few short words, he had managed to make her feel like an impatient, unfeeling baboon, and it bothered her immensely. He was right, but it still annoyed her whenever he played the morally superior card. It just didn’t seem right coming from him.

“Take all the time you need,” she said, placing her solid hand next to his intangible one.

She almost felt like adding something smart like,  _We have all the time in the Spirit World_ or _It’s not like I can go on without you_ , but that was more of a Sokka thing to say, and it seemed wildly inappropriate to make jokes now. She imagined this whole ordeal had to be emotionally exhausting for the prince. Even she could feel the strain.

A few minutes later, Zuko stood to his feet. “Okay, I’m ready.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “Never give up without a fight, right?”

She blinked, nonplussed by his sudden zeal. “Huh?”

“Made in Earth Kingdom.”

She just stared at him, more confused than ever. Was he making another joke? If so, she didn’t get it. She didn’t get him. In fact, she was fairly certain she would never understand the male sense of humour in general.

Zuko ignored her puzzled looks and began leading the way. Katara got up and followed him, observing him from behind. His spine was ramrod straight and his steps were sure. He looked confident enough with his head held high, but she could see that his balled fists were trembling slightly at his sides. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

For a while, nothing happened. It was just a long trek down memory lane with no memories. Then the mist began to rise from the stream, weaving its intricate patterns. The scene forming was huge, and it was knitting directly in their path so that they couldn’t move past it.

As it fleshed out, Zuko had suddenly gone rigid. Katara frowned as she watched the image of a young Zuko sound asleep on his bed. The door opened to his room and his mother drifted inside, gently waking him.

_“Mom?”_

__“Zuko, please, my love, listen to me. Everything I’ve done—”_ _ she hugged him tightly __“—everything I’ve done is to protect you. Remember this, Zuko. No matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are.”__

His mother hugged him one last time before getting up and disappearing down a dark corridor. The images began to shift then, showing the same young Zuko swiftly waking in terror.

 _ _“Mom?”_ _ He was running down the hallway. __“Mom! Mom!”__

He came across his sister, who was leaning against a pillar. She was absently playing with Zuko’s knife.

 _“Where’s Mom?”_ he asked.

 _“No one knows.”_ Azula shrugged and then looked up at him like she had just remembered something vaguely important. _“Oh, and last night Grandfather passed away.”_

___“Not funny, Azula. You’re sick! And I want my knife back, now.”_ _ _

He grabbed for the blade, but she dodged him and held the knife out in front of her. _ __“Who’s going to make me, Mom?”__ _

Zuko finally snatched the dagger from his sister’s clutches and sprinted out of the room towards the garden. His father was standing silently over the pond, staring off into the distance.

 ___“Where is she?”_ __ Zuko begged.

His father didn’t reply. He didn’t even bother to turn around. The image of a devastated young Zuko then began to fade, returning to formless mist. Silence filled the air. Terrible silence.

Katara stood deathly still, completely shell-shocked as the misty-white clouds floated back to the stream. Perhaps she and the Fire Prince had more in common than she thought.

“Zuko,” she began gently, as though her words could harm him, “I am so sor—”

“Forget it.”

“But—”

“We’re past the hump.” He pointed at something gleaming in the distance. “Look, I can see the palace up ahead.”

Katara cleared her thoughts with a shake of her head and glanced up ahead. She saw the brilliant white gleam of towers in the far distance. Or at least she assumed it was as such. Her eyesight obviously wasn’t as keen as Zuko’s, because all she could really make out were shapes that could resemble towers on a castle. However, she did see the ocean and the sun brightly reflecting the rich, sea-green colour.

That was when Katara noticed that there was colour in this world again. Not just the ocean but everything around them held colour, from the fishes to the stream to the field of fire lilies renewing their vibrant shade of orange. Even Zuko had some colour in his cheeks that she was sure wasn’t there before. In fact, he even seemed a bit more solid now, more alive. She was about to comment on this when the mist began lifting off the water in blankets, covering their path once again with fog.

 ___Another big one_ , __she thought to herself with mild apprehension. She looked over her shoulder at Zuko to see that he had gone rigid again. She frowned. What could possibly be worse than losing his mother?

___“Let me in!”_ _ _

Zuko was barking orders at a pair of guards who were blocking his entrance to a room. He looked older, maybe thirteen or fourteen. His face was still free of its trademark scar, and Katara wondered exactly when he had received it—on the sea?

 ___“Prince Zuko, what’s wrong?”_ __ asked an older man, who Katara instantly recognised as General Iroh.

___“I want to go into the war chamber, but the guard won’t let me pass!”_ _ _

__Ir__ oh led the boy a short distance away from the guards. _ __“You are not missing anything, trust me. These meetings are dreadfully boring.”__ _

___“If I’m gonna rule this nation one day, don’t you think I need to start learning as much as I can?”_ __ Zuko countered, and his uncle nodded reluctantly.

 ___“Very well, but you must promise not to speak. These old folks are a bit sensitive, you know.”_ __ He gave his nephew a wink, and Zuko bowed respectfully.

___“Thank you, Uncle.”_ _ _

The scene shifted to a war chamber where Fire Nation generals appeared to have gathered around a map of the Earth Kingdom adorning the floor. One of the generals on the left was addressing the war council:

 ___“The Earth Kingdom defences are concentrated here,”_ __ he said, pointing to a spot on the map. _ __“A dangerous battalion of their strongest earthbenders and fiercest warriors, so I am recommending the 41st division.”__ _

An older general interrupted, _ __“But the 41st is entirely new recruits. How do you expect them to defeat a powerful Earth Kingdom battalion?”__ _

___“I don’t,”_ the younger general responded coldly. _“They’ll be used as a distraction while we mount an attack from the rear. What better to use as bait than fresh meat?”__ _

Zuko was on his feet. _ __“You can’t sacrifice an entire division like that! Those soldiers love and defend our nation! How can you betray them?”_ _ _

The generals were shocked by his interruption, and then began arguing amongst themselves. Obviously they disapproved of the prince’s sudden outburst, while Zuko’s own father looked down on him with cold eyes. He told his son that this matter was to be settled over an Agni Kai.

Just as the words passed Ozai’s lips, the images vanished. Katara frowned. She had no idea what an Agni Kai was, but it didn’t sound pleasant. Abruptly, the images blazed back with the intensity of fire, and she took a fearful step back, as if the mist might burn her.

Zuko was entering what looked to be an arena. There were large crowds on either side. He dropped his ceremonial cloak to the floor, exposing his bare chest, and turned to face his opponent. He froze in horror at the sight before him. He was clearly not expecting to fight this man.

It was his father.

A cold fear churned in Katara’s gut. _ __No. This can’t be how he gets his scar.__ _

___“Please, Father,”_ __ Zuko begged. _ __“I only had the Fire Nation’s best interest at heart! I’m sorry I spoke out of turn!”__ _

He looked so small; his father so big.

 ___“You will fight for your honour!”_ __ Ozai roared.

Stricken, Zuko abased himself on the ground. _ __“I meant you no disrespect. I am your loyal son.”__ _

___“Rise and fight, Prince Zuko!”___ Ozai taunted, but Zuko continued to kneel prostrate.

_____“I won’t fight you.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“You will learn respect,”_ ____ Ozai said, _ _ _ __“and suffering will be your teacher.”__ _ _ _

His father then raised his hands and fire filled the arena. Katara turned away. She couldn’t look. Zuko’s screams of pain echoed throughout the valley and she clamped her hands over her ears.

Why? Why would a father do this to his son?

 _____“You are henceforth banished, Prince Zuko,”_ ____ Ozai said, his voice filling the air even though the images were already gone. _ _ _ __“Regain your honour and you may return.”__ _ _ _

____“Regain his honour?”____ Katara removed her hands from her ears and shouted at the retreating mist, _ _ _ _“How about you try regaining your honour as a father, you evil sack of—!”_ _ _ _

____“Hey,”____ Zuko interrupted far too gently, _ _ _ _“he can’t hear you. You’re yelling at thin air.”_ _ _ _

Katara didn’t care.

 ____“He’s a monster, Zuko! A monster!”____ She hadn’t even noticed that she was crying. _ _ _ _“No father, no parent, should ever do that to their child! Ever!”_ _ _ _

She dug the heels of her palms into her tear-stained eyes. She couldn’t believe she was crying for the prince of the Fire Nation, but she was. She couldn’t stop her heart from breaking at the thought of what he had gone through or how he must have felt, how he must still feel.

Sniffing loudly, Katara wiped her nose with the back of her hand and turned away. She didn’t want Zuko to see her like this, with her eyes swollen and bloodshot and her nose running. She didn’t want to admit that his past had touched her. That he wasn’t the birthed monster she had imagined him to be.

“He did it to teach me a lesson, to learn respect,” Zuko said. “I was banished because my refusal to fight was seen as a sign of weakness. I had lost my honour. The only way I could redeem myself was to capture the Avatar. He was my only hope.”

“Zuko.” She moved a hand to his misty shoulder. “You never lost your honour. Your father let you down. He shamed himself.”

He shrugged her hand off as though she had actually touched him. “We have to keep moving,” he said. “It’s not much farther now.”

By now he was running, and she was doing her best to keep up. Images continued to flash in front of them, moving in sync: Zuko chasing after Aang, a storm, her being tied to a tree. She blushed in remembrance of the latter. And then there was a wall of images surrounding them. The only way she could not see them was if she closed her eyes and, for some reason, she believed they would still get through somehow—still find their way into her mind.

A moment later, a vivid scene unfolded in front of them. It showed Aang being held prisoner by Admiral Zhao. Katara frowned. Since when was Aang captured by Zhao?

A man dressed in black, and wearing a scary blue mask, released Aang from his prison. He silently motioned for the Avatar to follow him. The two tried to escape, but a fight broke out. The masked man drew twin blades and cut them a path. The fighting seemed to go on forever, with the masked stranger and Aang working together as a team to fight off their common enemy before they managed to escape the encampment walls.

Suddenly there was a massive rain of arrows and the masked man was hurt. The scene quickly moved ahead, showing an exhausted Aang standing over the injured man. He reached down and removed the mask, revealing the stranger’s face.

Katara gasped.

“You—” She stopped dead in her tracks. He eyes were wide and fixed on Zuko. “ _You_ saved Aang’s life?”

He couldn’t even reply—not that he would have—before another series of images blurred past them. Zuko’s half-solid form reached out and tried to take her hand, to make her run with him, but his hand slipped through. Still, Katara continued to run alongside him as they neared the palace gates.

More images were hurled at them as they ran.

First, she saw Zhao and then Zuko standing alone on a ship as it exploded. She watched as a bruised and bloodied Zuko swam through the icy cold waters of the North Pole. She saw him at the Spirit Oasis, fighting her and then taking Aang away.

Next, he was trekking through the icy tundra with Aang on his back. He took a step and the ice beneath his feet began to crack. He looked shocked, even scared, but he never let go of Aang. Instead, he ran faster, carrying the Avatar as the ice splintered and broke apart beneath his feet.

The impact of the ice threw him off balance and launched him into the air. He lost his grip on Aang and fell. As the cloud of snow dissipated, Zuko raised his head and crawled towards the young monk lying unconscious in the snow.

 _He really doesn’t give up_ , Katara whispered to herself, as she watched Zuko drag Aang into a nearby cave.

 _____“I finally have you,”_ ____ Zuko said to the unconscious and bound Avatar. _ _ _ __“But I can’t get you home because of this blizzard.”_ ____ He stood up and looked outside the cave. _ _ _ __“There’s always something. Not that you would understand. You’re just like my sister. Everything always came easy to her._ _ _ _ _

_____“She’s a firebending prodigy and everyone adores her. My father said she was born lucky. He says I was lucky to be born. I don’t need luck, though. I don’t want it. I’ve always had to struggle and fight and that’s made me strong. It’s made me who I am.”_ _ _ _ _

Katara turned to look at Zuko, but he was already forging onwards through the mist.

“Almost there.”

Finally, it was the last scene of Zuko’s past. The one Katara did not want to see again. It unfolded clearly in front of the pearly gates for all to see.

It was Zuko’s death.

The first image she saw was herself, her hands raised in an offensive stance. Zuko was being launched up into the air on a pillar of ice and snow. The all too familiar sensation of peril seized her at once as she watched the ice break off into a dozen shards, spinning in and slicing across the prince’s throat.

This time she forced herself to watch his pain and suffering; the suffering she had caused. She swallowed back bile when she saw the blood spurt from his neck like a fountain, staining the snow crimson beneath his feet. He fell to the ground with a listless thud, his body twitching for only a moment before it stilled. Forever.

“This is it,” Zuko said, oblivious to the re-enactment of his own death. “Just past these gates and we’re at the palace of Varuna.”

Both walked through the archway with two guardian spirits, one standing on either side. Neither guard said a word, but they watched with keen eyes as the teenagers entered.

Katara raised her head, looking up at the beautiful palace with child-like wonder. The castle seemed to sparkle in the overhead sun, as though the walls themselves were decorated in diamonds. If she were to ever envision the palace of a god, this would be it.

“Hey, Zuko, do you think—” Her question died in her throat when she bumped into something solid and tall.

Warm hands reached out to grasp by her shoulders and steady her. Katara slowly turned towards that solid object and gasped. Zuko was solid flesh once more, and in colour. He was alive. He was tall and substantial. His face was pale and perfect, with his strong chin and piercing golden eyes. His hair—his long, inky black hair tied in a ponytail—swayed in the gentle breeze.

He was alive.

“Zuko, you’re real! You’re solid again!” She reached up to touch his face, but he caught her by the wrist.

“You think you could stop doing that?” He lowered her hand and she blushed profusely before pulling away.

“Sorry.”

He stared at her for a moment, watching her blush. The characteristic gloomy anger no longer gleamed in his eyes. Instead, it was replaced with something else—something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Let’s go,” he said abruptly, turning towards the entrance way.

She happily followed suit, an undeniable bounce to her step. For some reason she was happy, inexplicably happy.

“Have you thought up what you’re going to say to Varuna?” He glanced over his shoulder at her, and she paused.

Had she?

Suddenly a smile rose to her lips and she nodded before pushing on ahead of him. “Yeah, I think I have.”

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

IF KATARA WERE to describe the palace of Varuna in one word, it would be resplendent. Built into the face of Mount Meru and surrounded by the celestial waters of Rasa, it was a wondrous structure to beyond. Its slender ivory towers were banded in lacy stonework, its snowy domes were capped with gold and topped with golden spires that gleamed in the dying sun. It was truly a palace built for the gods by the gods.

Awestruck, Katara and Zuko slowly make their way up the white stairs until they were stranding in the entrance hall. Their every footfall echoed on the ivory tiles, loud and intimidating. The guards here seemed to be solid, but their eyes were ghostly, following the teenagers’ every movement in silence.

Katara tried to keep her features guarded. Every line on her face was blank, yet inside she was a maelstrom of emotions. Fear, worry, anticipation, irritation, wariness and impatience bounced over each other and washed through her. She wasn’t quite up to the task and she knew it. However, she couldn’t help but feel proud as she entered the enormous chamber with its high-vaulted ceilings. Her every footstep echoed assertively as she approached the throne of Varuna, goddess of the underworld.

The first thing Katara noticed about the goddess was her hair: it was white as snow and long, spilling over the back of her throne and pooling onto the ivory tiles below. Her skin was just as pale, almost translucent and glowing. Even the gown she wore was crystalline, like shimmering waters cascading down every fold and curve of her body. She was a beautiful ice sculpture, perfect and cold.

The goddess slowly lifted her head, her mane of snow shifting down her bare shoulders, and regarded her audience with the most brilliant blue eyes Katara had ever seen. They were like liquid pools of sapphire, deeper than the oceans. Beside her, Zuko let out a tiny gasp that sounded something like a prayer while Katara openly gaped in awe. She simply could not turn away.

This was a god.

However, Katara would not be so easily intimidated, not even by a god. Or at least that’s what she told herself. She had a mission to fulfil, so she squared back her shoulders and set her lips into a grim line of determination. She would win over this beautiful goddess with a blind confidence that she didn’t even know she possessed.

Like Zuko, Katara would never give up. However, it wasn’t bravery that worked her limbs to move or her mouth to open; for, in truth, she really wasn’t all that brave. To be completely honest, she was scared out of her mind. She was scared of everything and everyone around her. But she had strength. She had the strength of her convictions, and that made her as strong as steel.

“I am Varuna,” the white-haired beauty announced, her voice as calming as a steady rain. “God of the celestial waters and ruler of the Spirit World. What is it that you want?”

Katara swiftly pointed to Zuko. “I want him.” She wasn’t pleading or demanding. She was just answering a simple question with an equally simple response, hoping the goddess didn’t notice how badly she was trembling. “I want to bring him back to the living.”

“What is he to you?” Varuna asked.

She was impassive, this icy goddess, and Katara wondered how anyone had bargained with her before.

“He was once my enemy,” Katara said evenly.

“And now?” The goddess lifted a pale eyebrow in curiosity.

“I don’t know, exactly.” Katara shrugged uncomfortably. “But I do know that he is not the person I once thought he was, and I have come all this way to petition for his life—a life I took.”

Varuna’s eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch higher. She seemed intrigued by all of this. Perhaps this was the first time a living soul had requested the return of a conquered enemy.

“How did you find your way to him?” she asked.

“Guilt,” Katara answered without hesitation. It was, after all, the truth. “Luck, I guess. And determination. But mostly—mostly it was he who found me.”

“And why do you believe he deserves to return to the living?”

“Because he didn’t deserve to die.” She paused, swallowing hard. “His death was my doing and its undoing should also be mine to petition.” The goddess regarded her dubiously, and Katara struggled to keep from babbling. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing, “Because I believe everyone deserves a second chance, and this man could do good things, if given that chance.”

Varuna slowly shook her head, her long white locks cascading down her shoulders. “That is not reason enough to allow his return.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Katara shook her head. “I thought life and death was all about balance. What balance does he serve down here? Maybe—maybe he can help turn the tide and bring balance to our world above.”

Varuna paused. She seemed to be considering. “But you cannot guarantee that he will balance the scales,” she reasoned. “You cannot simply bet on off-chances.”

“Why not?”

“Because as a living soul, you have nothing to bet with.” The goddess frowned. “You risk nothing.”

Katara puffed out her chest with indignation. “Then I will bet my own karma on the off-chance that he will.”

The room went silent, and Zuko stepped forward. “Now wait just a—”

Varuna raised a hand and effectively silenced the prince. Her blue eyes seemed to dance in the moonlight that spilled into the throne room. Those same eyes narrowed on Katara.

“You would wager the karma of your eternal soul on a hunch?”

Katara inwardly winced at the goddess’s words. Well, when it was put that way, it did sound rather foolish. However, Katara had always been known for thinking with her heart and not with her head.

“I have seen his past,” she told the goddess. “I have seen him help others, placing strangers and even enemies above of himself. I have seen the welfare he has for his people.” The scar on his face proved that. “I believe he can do good, if you will just give him that chance.”

Varuna had gone mute for a moment, silently calculating. Her gaze was intimidating and terrifying, but Katara held her ground. Then the goddess descended from her throne and stepped towards the teenagers. She was feather-light; her bare feet did not make even the slightest whisper on the ground, nor did her watery gown that seemed to magically float along the floor.

“Your plea is heard,” she said, “and your petition is granted. You may return to the living world at dawn, together.”

Relief flooded Katara’s heart all at once. However, before she could even thank the goddess, Varuna was already gliding past them down the steps, trickling like water.

“Follow me,” she commanded.

Like moonlight hitting water, Varuna shimmered in the darkness and then disappeared out of the main chamber. The teens quickly took off in pursuit, following her down a series of hallways that grew dimmer and dimmer as they went, with only the goddess herself serving as their light.

Zuko was out in front, leading the way behind Varuna, when Katara suddenly lost sight of them. She called out Zuko’s name and inwardly cursed herself for how frightened she must have sounded. She made a full circle, lost in the darkness, until she bumped into something solid and warm. Hands latched onto her shoulders, and she had to stop herself from shrieking.

“I’m right here.”

Suddenly there was a flame lit in Zuko’s palm and Katara could finally see. She was grateful that he could bend here, and she absently wondered if she could, too. However, now was not the time to test that theory.

They quickly caught up with the goddess, who was glowing like the pale moon outside. Her gown seemed to be made of the same celestial waters that surrounded the palace. It looked wet to the touch.

“Just around this corner is your room,” she said, pointing up ahead.

“Room?” Katara furrowed her brow in confusion. She thought the goddess was leading them out of the Spirit World, not to a bedroom—certainly not one to be shared between her and Zuko.

“You will leave at daybreak,” Varuna informed them. “I imagine you both have much to discuss—to say your goodbyes.”

Goodbyes? Katara chewed on her bottom lip. This goddess didn’t seem to have much faith in them, or her specifically.

Varuna smiled benevolently at the teenagers and inclined her head in farewell. Then, with a whisper of movement, she glided back down the hallway that now shimmered white like moonlight.

Katara watched the goddess go with a pensive frown before following Zuko down the hall. When the entered the bedroom, Katara couldn’t help but grimace. The room itself was spacious. It even had a large bay window that overlooked the moonlit waters below. However, there was only one bed and one chair. Nothing else. For a bedchamber in a celestial palace, it was sparsely furnished. Katara couldn’t help but wonder where she and Zuko were supposed to rest.

The teenagers eyed the bed greedily, until Zuko pointed a determined finger at it and glared over his shoulder at Katara. “You are not getting that bed!”

“Why shouldn’t I? What makes you so special?”

“I’m dead,” he said simply.

Katara glowered at the prince. That was his answer for everything. She wanted to say that she should have the bed since she was the one who was freeing him from the Spirit World, but then she was the one who had sent him here to begin with. It wasn’t exactly a winning counter-point. So instead of bickering, she decided that a compromise was in order.

Katara slowly circled the canopied bed, taking in its size and inviting plushness. She glanced at the chair, and its noticeable lack of comfort, and turned back to the bed. She was suddenly feeling very sleepy.

“This bed is big enough for the both of us,” she reasoned.

Zuko took an apprehensive step back. “I’m not getting into bed with you.” The back of his neck and ears were already flushing a bright pink.

“I didn’t—that’s not what I meant,” she said, exasperated.

“Then what did you mean?”

Katara’s mouth worked soundlessly before she dropped her shoulders in defeat. “Ugh, _that_. But it’s not like I want to cuddle with you or anything,” she added quickly.

Zuko stared at her like she might as well suggested that they fornicate right then and there.

“You stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine,” she said. “Never the twain shall our bodies meet.”

Zuko kept his gaze warily fixed on her for a moment and then nodded reluctantly. “Fine.” He pointed to the right side of the bed. “This is my side and that’s yours. And this—” he picked up a pillow and laid it down the middle like a vertical divide “—this is the line that separates us. Don’t even think about crossing it.”

Katara rolled her eyes. _Whatever_. “I’ll try my best to resist, Your Highness.”

Both teenagers then carefully folded back the blankets on their respective sides of the bed and climbed inside. Backs to each other and separated as far apart as possible, they sighed in unison and waited for the inevitable weariness of sleep to take over.

* * *

DESPITE BEING EXHAUSTED, Katara found that she could not sleep. How could she begin to find peace in a strange bed, in an even stranger place, with such a strange boy sleeping next to her?

Zuko didn’t seem to be faring much better. He was tossing and turning, trying to shift himself into a comfortable position before settling on his back with a sigh.

“Can’t sleep?” He didn’t answer. “Neither can I.” She folded her hands behind her head and breathed deeply. “I can’t wait to return home, back to the land of the living.”

“I have no home to return to.”

Katara brought her arms back down under the covers. She suddenly felt rather uncomfortable. She forgot that Zuko was a banished prince. Not just banished but deprived of his ship and crew. He was as alone in the living world as he was in death.

“You have your uncle,” she said, regretting the words the moment they slipped out of her mouth.

Zuko muttered something unintelligible, and she didn’t bother to ask him to clarify. An uncomfortable silence settled between them, and Katara twiddled her thumbs underneath the sheets. She felt as though she should say something, but this was Zuko. Anything she said was going to be ignored or guffawed at. However, Katara couldn’t ignore him. There was this unmistakeable feeling of unease weighing on her chest. It had been there ever since she turned down the path to arrive here, experiencing Zuko’s past as he relived it.

“I know how you feel,” she said quietly.

He snorted derisively. “How could you possibly know?”

There was bitterness and condescension in his tone, and though she knew she should try to be patient and sympathetic, something inside her snapped.

“Would you just listen to what I have to say for once!” She sat up and smoothed her hands down her tunic, trying to calm herself down. “I know—I know what it’s like to lose a part of your family. I lost my mother when I was very young.”

Her confession was met with silence. A minute later and he still hadn’t spoken. For a second, she thought he had fallen asleep, but then there came a soft, “How?”

“The Fire Nation,” she said. “They came to our village looking for a waterbender. A soldier entered our home, demanding my mother tell him who the waterbender was.” She stared at her hands, digging a nail underneath her thumb. “It was just me and my mom. I was so scared. But my mom, she told me to go fetch my dad, and when I came back—” her voice faltered “—it was already too late.”

“Your mother told him that she was the waterbender.”

“Yes.” She nodded sadly. “My mother died protecting me, so I do know how you feel.” She lifted her chin and looked at him directly. “I know what it feels like to blame yourself.”

Zuko’s mouth worked open, but no sound came out, not at first. He turned away, exhaling hotly through his nose, and then forced himself to meet her eyes again.

“But what happened to your mother wasn’t your fault.”

Katara smiled sadly. “What happened to your mother wasn’t your fault, either.”

Both went silent again. Katara rubbed her tear-stained cheeks before wiping her nose with the back of her hand. This was the second time she had cried in front of him. Whatever had caused her to become so emotional in his presence?

“You know—” she settled back on the pillow “—I used to hate you.”

“Really?” he drawled. “I would have never guessed, what with you killing me and all.”

She almost laughed. “No, I mean I decided to hate you before I even knew you.”

He raised his good eyebrow at this.

“Part of it had to do with you chasing after Aang and tying me to a tree,” she said, and he shifted uncomfortably. “But it was more than that. See, I always associated everything evil with the Fire Nation, especially soldiers and the royal family. Even you. No, _especially_ you. Because of what that man did to my mother, I assumed that you were just as capable.”

“Sadly, we are all capable of doing what he did,” he said morosely.

“You’re right—we are all capable of horrible things, but you are not a murderer, Zuko.” She pointed to herself. “I am, but you are not. You tried to capture Aang so many times, but you never hurt him, not even close. In fact, you saved him.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m trying to say that I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” His fingers were on her lips. “Don’t apologise.”

Katara almost went cross-eyed trying to look at his fingers. They felt rougher than she imagined. They were calloused and hot. He was gazing intently at her mouth, and then he hastily pulled his hand away as if her lips had scalded him. Katara thanked the spirits that it was just dark enough in the room for him not to see her blushing.

“You did what you had to do in order to protect your friend,” he said, after unceremoniously clearing his throat. “You have every right to hate my country and my family, especially me. I’ve been chasing you all across the world. I must have looked mad to you.” He paused thoughtfully. “But what that man did to your mother was unforgivable, and wrong. And I—I’m not really even sure anymore if this war is right anymore.”

“Zuko?” She watched him closely. It felt as if she was looking at him for the first time. Was this the _real_ Zuko?

“Never mind.” He shook his head. “Let’s just call it a truce for now. Okay?”

He extended an arm to her and she stared at it dumbly for a moment before some half-remembered speech from Sokka on the manly tradition of grasping another man’s forearm sprang to mind. She extended her own arm in return and grasped his with a firm shake.

“It’s a deal.”

After a moment, they let go and settled back onto their respective sides of the bed, with Zuko’s pillow still acting as a natural divide.

Katara felt temporarily recharged. Her senses were piqued to a degree of wakeful readiness. _Goodnight, then_ , was what her brain wanted to say, but her mouth seemed to have other plans—ones mainly involving babbling. And so she unwittingly attempted to liven the mood with tales of sucking on frozen frogs and telling horribly unfunny jokes, most of which she forgot to properly deliver the punchline for.

When Zuko didn’t so much as smile, she nervously rubbed at the spot behind her ear. “Uh, Sokka’s usually much better at telling jokes than I am.”

“You don’t say.”

She sucked on her bottom lip, feeling the tips of her ears burn with embarrassment. Yeah, she wasn’t exactly good with the telling of the jokes, but Zuko wasn’t exactly good with the hearing of them, either. They had reached an impasse in their conversation, and she had no idea where to go from there or what to do next.

“How about we try to get some sleep,” Zuko suggested dryly. “Who knows what sort of craziness we’ll face tomorrow.”

Katara nodded in tired agreement and settled back into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She watched Zuko turn over on his side, facing her with his eyes closed. He was already falling into a deep slumber.

 _Sokka’s the same way_ , she thought enviously. He’d fall asleep at the drop of a hat and be completely dead to the world. He would tell her it was a warrior thing, but she was convinced it was really just more of a guy thing.

Her eyelids suddenly grew heavy, and she realised that she was indeed tired and no longer fighting the urge to sleep. As her eyes began to flutter shut, her gaze once more drifted to the Fire Prince’s sleeping form. She watched the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed and the way his face relaxed in his sleep, giving him a gentle, boyish look. Then her eyes focussed on the ugly scar on his throat, the one she had given him, and she frowned. She did this to him— _she_ did. Could he trust her to rescue him from here? Could she trust herself?

Eyes finally sliding shut, Katara let out a soft sigh in relaxation. She didn’t have all the answers, and she wouldn’t know for sure if she could return Zuko until she tried, but she would try. She would try for the both of them.

* * *

KATARA WOKE IN the middle of the night, or what she assumed was night (it was hard to tell down here), and rolled over onto something solid: Zuko’s chest. Like something out of a nightmare, she slowly turned her head to look up at his face, to see if he was still asleep. Instead, she was met by two bright golden eyes staring down at her quizzically.

She let out a scream of terror that ended up sounding more like a squawk and jerked herself off his chest. The top of her head connected with his chin and she heard him grunt before she promptly fell off the bed. She quickly got back up on her knees and cautiously peered over the edge of the mattress at the prince.

How did he end up on her side of the bed?

“What did you do that for?”

His large hand was covering his mouth and chin, smothering multiple expletives. After a few seconds, he removed his hand and sniffed. Katara didn’t see any blood or broken teeth, so she didn’t think he really should have been complaining this much. Really, were all men such babies?

“Why are you on my side of the bed?” she demanded.

“Your side?” Zuko blinked and looked to his left, seeing the empty expanse he had travelled across to get to her side. “Oh.”

He quickly shuffled over as an apology and, after a while, Katara hesitantly slipped back under the covers. She eyed him suspiciously, as if he might try to sneak-cuddle her when her guard was down. She had no idea why he would want to get close to her. She wasn’t exactly a running warm type of person. In fact, her body temperature was rather cool. It would have made more sense for her to be on his side, seeking the natural warmth of his body—and it might have explained why she had woken up with her head cradled on his chest. She brought the sheets up over her nose at the thought, trying to hide her blush.

Several moments of silence passed and Katara eventually drifted back to sleep, only to be awoken by a gentle dip in the bed. She opened her eyes and turned her head to see golden eyes glowing eerily in the darkness.

“Did you really mean what you said?” His voice was surprisingly soft, so much so that she wasn’t sure she had heard him at first.

“What?” She yawned, turning over on her side as she tucked the blankets underneath her chin. She had said a lot of things today.

“What you told Varuna—that you thought I could do some good in our world.”

Katara paused. She could see the outline of Zuko’s face in the moonlight. She had never seen him look so earnest, so vulnerable.

“Yes, I did,” she said, and then corrected herself, “I do.”

He seemed unsure of her answer, so she clarified.

“You said it yourself: we’re all capable of horrible things. Once I could only see the bad in you, but coming down here and seeing you—the _real_ you—I now know that there is good in you, too. Real goodness.”

What she didn’t tell him was that she respected him and, much more frightening than that, she trusted him. However, she couldn’t be sure he felt the same about her. Any why should he? It was probably hard to fully trust the person who killed you.

“Look, I don’t know if anything will change when we return or if we’ll just go back to being enemies, but right here, right now, you have my trust. So much so that I’m willing to risk my karma.” She offered him a lopsided grin. “Consider it intuition or just plain craziness, but I have faith that you’re a good person, Zuko.”

He went silent then, mulling over her words.

“So you think I can be like you, one of the good guys?” She nodded and he paused thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’d be good at being the hero.”

“I think you’d do fine,” she murmured sleepily into her pillow. “You just need to believe in yourself—” she yawned loudly “—and allow others to believe in you.”

Katara’s eyes were already closed when she said the words, so she hadn’t seen the way Zuko was staring at her or the shy but proud grin that had surfaced on his lips.

* * *

VARUNA’S GUARDS CAME for them at daybreak.

The teenagers were already awake and ready to go. Katara was hollow-eyed and yawning while Zuko looked pale—paler than usual, anyway. They weaved their way through the empty hallways and stumbled down the stairs until they reached the entrance hall. Beyond that was the throne room.

When they stepped inside, they expected to see Varuna. Instead, there was a man: a beautiful young man dressed in golden armour that shone as brightly as the sun. In fact, he was so bright that Katara had to shield her eyes at first.

His skin was golden like the sun and glowing with radiance. He was draped in brilliant gold armour, from the nape of his neck to the bottom of his feet. The light from his armour was so blinding that Katara could barely make out the insignia on his broad chest. It almost looked like a flame. His hair, which was raven-black and long, was half-queued in a topknot, and fitted perfectly inside was a gold crown shaped like the sun.

He was silent, standing next to Varuna’s throne. His hands were held behind him at the small of his back, his legs only slightly spread apart. He looked at ease but also coiled at alert. That hair of his, black like ink, was sleek and almost as long as Varuna’s snow-white mane. And while Varuna was haunting and pale like the moon, this man was blinding like the sun.

Katara offhandedly wondered if this stranger was Varuna’s husband. He was handsome and boyish, a bright contrast to the timeless and surreal beauty of Varuna. Though opposites, they somehow seemed like a perfect fit.

“Who are you?” Katara asked suddenly, unable to stop the words from tumbling past her lips.

“Who are _you_?” the stranger shot back.

Zuko, who had pinched her arm so forcefully that she yelped, hissed in her ear, “That’s Lord Agni! The _god_ of fire.”

“Oh.”

Zuko had let go of Katara’s arm and was already abasing himself on the ivory tiles while Katara stared at this magnificent god with a slacken jaw. She was shamefully embarrassed for a moment, but the fire god didn’t seem to mind her lack of recognition or her lack of respect. It was then that she noticed the hard slant of his cheekbones, the bow of his mouth, the slight raise of his eyebrows and the gentle glow of his golden eyes. He reminded her of Zuko—an older, non-scarred, shining brighter than the sun version of Zuko—and for some reason that made her blush.

“I am Katara,” she finally said, bowing lowly, “daughter of Hakoda and Kya.”

Agni’s eyes were both light and hard, and his lips had curled at the corners into a fetching smile. “So you are the mortal that killed this boy here and petitioned for his return to the living.” He motioned to Zuko, who was already back on his feet with his head bowed lowly.

“Yes, I am.”

“I see.” Agni’s eyes curved with a hint of mirth. “The guards outside will escort you to Varuna. She will show you to the door that will return you to your world above.”

Both Katara and Zuko bowed in unison, expressing their thanks. They were about to leave when Agni called out to them.

“One moment. I would like to speak with you.” His eyes were on Katara and he held out his shining hand. “Alone, if you will.”

Foolishly, Katara looked back at Zuko for support, but his eyes were bulging, silently demanding that she submit to Agni’s request or else be smote with fire (by his or the god’s). With a measure of courage she didn’t know she possessed, Katara squared her shoulders and took Agni’s hand. Willing or not, she was about to hold palaver with the god of fire himself.

* * *

OUTSIDE THE THRONE room, in the entrance hall, Zuko paced and he waited. And waited. Katara had been gone for a long time, or at least it seemed so to him. Maybe it was because he was curious what the god of fire had to say to a relatively unimportant water peasant. He couldn’t help but be envious. Zuko would have given his good eye to hold court with the lord of all firebenders.

Finally, Katara stepped outside, slipping out of the throne room like a thief in the night. She was red all over and trembling, not once taking her eyes off her feet.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing!” she whispered hurriedly, refusing all eye contact. “Just drop it!”

She brushed past him, making a beeline for the two guards who were patiently waiting outside to escort them to Varuna. Zuko peeked back inside the throne room. Agni was no longer there. He was gone. Vanished. Zuko’s mouth puckered into a disappointed frown.

He turned back to Katara, who was fidgeting with her tunic. She must have felt his eyes on her for she stopped, turned around and snapped her fingers at him before slapping at her thigh like an owner calling for her pet to follow. When he glared at her, her eyes widened in shock, as though finally realising the absurdity and degradedness of the act. Her cheeks flushed scarlet before she promptly swivelled around.

Zuko shook his head with a scowl. This blushing idiot was the one who would damn him, he told himself with a resigned sigh. But then . . . but then she might very well be the blushing idiot who would save him.

* * *

THE GUARDS LED Katara and Zuko outside to the shores of the celestial waters where Varuna was already waiting. The goddess looked almost corpse-like against the backdrop of the rising sun. The night was definitely Varuna’s time to shine, whereas the day was for Agni. Still, the goddess was hauntingly beautiful no matter what light she was in.

Varuna lifted a pale arm, signally for the guards to leave and for the teenagers to come forward. She then guided them along the golden-white sands to another stone gateway, not unlike the one Katara came through. Although this one was much bigger, opening up into a long arching bridge and a set of stairs that ascended into the clouds.

“This is the bridge to the living,” Varuna said softly. “At the end of this bridge are a set of stairs that will return you to the living world. Go gently.”

Katara and Zuko stepped forward together and were about cross the threshold when Varuna called out to them. Both turned expectantly, faces wearing identical quizzical expressions.

“You must go first,” Varuna said to Katara. “You must walk before him and trust that he will follow you. It is your mission to guide him to safety.”

Katara swallowed hard but nodded in affirmative. Varuna opened the gateway for them and they walked forward again. Suddenly the goddess was standing directly in their path.

“Before you go, Katara, daughter of Hakoda and Kya, you should know that you alone will be tested on this path. At no point can you turn around, nor can you call out to him. If you do, he will be lost to you forever—sent to Naraka, the hell of the underworld, where he will dwell until his next reincarnation.”

“W-what?” Katara felt like she had been punched in the gut. The wind had been knocked out of her lungs. Hell? Her world turned black and she took a staggering step back. “N-no one ever told me that! I-I didn’t—I didn’t know.” She turned to Zuko. “Did you?”

He failed to meet her gaze and she felt her heart plummet into her stomach. She felt nauseated. He knew. He knew all along and he let her convince him to come here. Why? For what purpose? Did he want to punish himself?

“The road taken here was Zuko’s trial alone,” Varuna explained. “It was a quick balance of karma, a short-cut to reincarnation or internment.”

“But the sacrifice—”

“The sacrifice has always been his soul, to free it to the world of the living or to banish it to the ice and fires of Naraka.” The goddess’s blue eyes darkened. “Your penalty was to suffer humility; to know that you chose yourself over another. It never crossed your mind that your acts could only further punish him.”

Katara’s knees buckled. She tried to breathe but found no air. Varuna was right. She had never once thought how any of this could harm Zuko. She had never bothered to listen to what _he_ wanted. Bile rose to her throat. What had she done?

“With all due respect, I disagree.”

Katara swivelled her head around in shock. Zuko was standing beside her. His eyes were level on the goddess.

“I don’t believe that she chose herself over me,” he said. “She’s not that sort of person. I think it’s true that she feels guilt for what she did, but I believed her when she told you she thought I could serve a purpose greater than myself. I believe her still. That is why I think her goals are selfless. She will not fail.”

“ _Zuko_.”

“Don’t let it go to your head!” he snapped, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. “I need you to be that sickeningly hopeful girl I once tied to a tree.”

“Tied to a tree?” The goddess was intrigued, but Zuko ignored her.

“Can you do that?” He turned to face her. “Can you lead me out of here?”

“I-I can,” Katara stammered, momentarily at a loss for words. She felt fear, of that there was no doubt, but it was small and tightly contained, swallowed whole now by sheer determination. “I _will_.”

Zuko’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously in his throat, but he nodded, pleased enough with her answer. He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet, and she smiled appreciatively. Both of them were playing the hero now, defending and depending one another, and it was now up to Katara to validate her promise. It was up to her to bring this prince back to the land of the living.

“Goodbye,” Varuna said, quietly smiling. “And good luck.”

Katara craned her neck to look up at the intimidating bridge beyond the arc. She could feel Zuko staring at her back, but she did not move. Her limbs were twitching and her body was aching to turn around, but her spine had turned to steel and she took in a deep breath.

She strode forward.

She could do this, she told herself, hoping against hope that Zuko would follow. For there was no turning back now. In both life and death they were inextricably bound, and she _would_ bring him home.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

THEY TRICKED HER! The gods had tricked her!

Katara was so angry she could scream, but making a single noise on this bridge could void the spiritual contract and send Zuko straight to Naraka, a realm of torment and agony. That thought alone kept her mouth shut. The idea of Zuko being sent to hell because of her terrified her and drove her forward.

It wasn’t entirely Varuna’s fault, Katara eventually admitted. Actually, it wasn’t the goddess’s fault at all. It was her own. Katara was the one who was so confident in herself and her need to return Zuko to the living—to appease her own guilt—that she never once considered the consequences for him.

Avatar Kuruk had warned her, but she had arrogantly presumed the sacrifice would be hers and hers alone. It wasn’t. It was her decision to bring Zuko home; a decision _she_ made that entailed a sacrifice from _him_. The ultimate kind.

However, Katara had to wonder why he chose to come with her, knowing what he knew. He allowed her to bait him, even though he knew all along that he was travelling towards a second death. No, a punishment far greater than death. He was willingly walking into a trap that she had unwittingly created, but to what end?

Taking a deep breath, Katara shook off the thought and carefully made her way onto the onyx-coloured bridge. She could hear the rushing waters below, but she dared not glance down in case she somehow turned and looked back at Zuko. Varuna had told her she must always look ahead, always move forward, or else—

Katara shut her eyes. She didn’t want to think about the consequences. Instead, she focussed on moving forward. She opened her eyes and stared ahead, but she could no longer see the stairs that Varuna had pointed out earlier. The fog was so thick here that she could barely see her own hands in front of her face let alone the black stone bridge beneath her feet.

She wondered what kind of images she would be shown this time around. Would it be like how it was seeing Zuko’s past? Would she see her own past this time? Would he see it as well?

Katara worried her bottom lip with her teeth. The latter thought shouldn’t have bothered her as much as it did. Why should she care if Zuko saw her past? She had seen him at his most vulnerable. It was only fair that he got to see her at her weakest point, too. The memory of Zuko freezing when he saw his mother hugging him goodbye flitted through her mind and she frowned. She was going to have to relive everything again.

Taking another deep breath, Katara confidently strode forward. This was her test, she told herself. To see how strong she was and how much she was willing to sacrifice for her enemy without condemning him to hell. But while she had stood beside Zuko on his path, her journey inevitably had to be travelled alone.

* * *

ZUKO’S EYES WERE trained on the waterbender in front of him, his gaze fixed on the chestnut braid that hung down the middle of her back. He knew all along that he’d be sent to Naraka should someone try (and fail) to bring him home. His conversation with Red-Sash informed him as such:

_“On the off chance that a living being should descend here and petition for your soul, you run the risk of being sent directly to Naraka should that person fail._

_“You see, it’s all about balance here, no shortcuts. And I should note that there have only been a handful of people over the last ten thousand years who have managed to convince Varuna. You are unlikely to be a part of that exception.”_

Zuko didn’t expect anyone to come for him, least of all the person who had killed him. However, the waterbender had come for him with tears in her eyes, and he had stupidly agreed. He still wasn’t exactly sure why he had done it. Maybe on some level he knew she’d fail and he’d be forced to spend his reincarnation cycle in hell. Maybe he wanted to be punished. Maybe.

Now things were different. Now he wanted her to succeed. He wanted to return to the living. He _needed_ to. He just had to have faith—in her.

* * *

KATARA SLOWLY MADE her way across the bridge. She glanced down at her feet to see the gaps in the stonework below. Some of the gaps were easy to spot, like missing chunks of mortar; some were several feet wide. Others were difficult to see, like the slick cracks in the stone that crumbled the moment her foot touched them. What at first seemed to be a strong and sturdy structure was actually a weakened foundation.

 _How many hopeful souls have set foot on this bridge?_ she wondered. _How many have made it to the other side?_

The fog picked up, invading her space as it crawled along her skin and forced its way into her lungs. It swaddled her like a thick blanket, suffocating her. However, the fog wasn’t her only deterrent from running straight for the exit. The crumbling stone bridge groaned and creaked under their combined weight, cracking apart.

Katara swallowed her fear into the pit of her stomach and held it there, coiling it tightly. She refused to let it surface. She had to lead Zuko out of here, and she had to trust that he would follow her every step or else.

Suddenly the fog began to lift, drawing upwards and parting like curtains for a performance. The bridge had become visible now, though she still couldn’t spy the exit ahead. She thanked the spirits for the small favour that she could at least see where she was going, and she began to walk more confidently.

The sound of the rushing waters below was soothing to her ears, though eerie. The brilliant silver-green water rose up alongside of her like twisted banners spun of liquid silk. The water began to form their own patterns, reminding her of the mist in the meadows, and she waited for it. And then it came.

At first there were only flashing images. A small girl with pale skin, messy hair and milky green eyes was dressed like a boy. Three teenage girls chasing after Appa. The girls looked familiar, but the images flashed by so quickly that Katara had no time to recall where she had seen them before.

Then she saw herself in a green-glowing crystal cavern with Zuko. His ponytail was gone, replaced with shaggy hair that fell in front of his eyes. He was dressed in Earth Kingdom robes and he was looking at her with such sad eyes. She was touching his scarred cheek, almost longingly.

The images quickly shifted: she was kneeling in the water with a lifeless Aang in her arms.

Katara swallowed painfully, trying to chase back the visceral images that mocked her vision. Was he dead? No. No, the Avatar couldn’t be dead.

She wanted to scream out, to ask what was going on, but the scene was already changing. The sky was a blood red, an angry storm of violence. She saw Zuko—this time he was crouching low with his arms extended forward. Blue and orange flames surrounded him, licking at his skin. Suddenly a jet of blue fire blasted past his shoulder.

The blue flame-wielder was a girl around Katara’s age, with brown hair and amber eyes. She was propelling herself forward with those same blue flames, aiming for Zuko. The Fire Prince managed to protect himself from the girl’s attacks by creating a large sphere of fire, while returning his own volley of orange fire. But the girl was too fast for him.

He crouched low to the ground and performed several spinning sweep kicks, creating a powerful ring of fire that expanded outwards. The girl attempted to block Zuko’s attack with a shield of blue fire, but it was too late, and Zuko’s fire connected.

The amber-eyed girl fell forward and rolled across the ground, gasping in pain. Seconds later, she picked herself back up. She was obviously in pain, but it was more than that. It was more than just physical torment that clouded her haunted, frenzied eyes. Her hair had come undone, wet strands sticking to her face. She looked up at Zuko through the flames and bared her teeth in contempt.

 _“What, no lightning today, Azula?”_ Zuko taunted. _“What’s the matter? Afraid I’ll re-direct it?”_

He shifted his stance and thrust his palm forward, as though daring her to try.

Katara’s mouth dropped open in shock. Azula? Zuko was fighting his own sister?

 _“Oh, I’ll show you lightning!”_ Azula screamed. She waved her hands around in arcs, generating lightning from her very fingertips.

Zuko breathed evenly, extending both palms outwards as though he was going to receive the lightning. Katara held her breath, mesmerised by the duo’s actions. It was like watching two fencers circle each other in a duel.

Azula’s lightning crackled in her fingertips and her eyes shifted, looking past Zuko at someone else: _her_. Katara was standing behind the Fire Prince, as if she were his ally.

The Fire Princess smirked and extended her arm to the right of Zuko, releasing the lighting. Katara could only watch in horror as the lightning travelled towards the image of herself. She was going to die. Zuko’s crazy sister was going to kill her!

Suddenly the scene narrowed in on Zuko, an expression of shock registering on his face as he realised who Azula was aiming for. He pivoted quickly to the right and leapt, trying to get in between Katara and the lightning as it shot from Azula’s fingertips.

_“No!”_

There was a blinding flash of light and Katara could hear her own vision screaming out his name, _“Zuko!”_

The images dispersed and Katara noticed that her own hand was reaching out through the green fog, as though she could save him, as though could stop the images from disappearing.

Was this was her future: to watch Zuko die again?

She curled her fingers into her palm and lowered her hand to her side. No. She shook her head and her mouth set in a hard, determined line. No, she could not question it now. She could not say a word. She could not turn back. She had to keep going forward, for Zuko’s sake.

* * *

ZUKO’S EYES WERE on Katara’s back, but his mind was reeling in shock.

What did he just see? His future or hers? Would he really save this girl’s life, fighting against his own sister and matching her every move? Him, the failure, the banished prince? He wasn’t sure if these visions were glimpses of the future or some twisted sort of devilry.

The green water flickered.

He bit his lip then, concentrating on the task at hand. He found himself admiring the waterbender’s resolve, her ability to keep going forward. Perhaps she wouldn’t so easily be broken. But then it was still too early to tell.

* * *

KATARA CONTINUED TO make her way across the bridge. She wondered what she’d be shown next. Unlike the road to Zuko’s past, where Zuko could run past the images, Katara could not. If she should run, she could fall, and then what would happen to the Fire Prince?

Celestial waters rose high above her like dazzling columns, forming a pair of hands that were reaching into a deep pool of blue. It was Admiral Zhao. He grabbed the white koi from its sanctuary and it struggled in his hands. Zhao forced the flailing fish into a bag and pulled the strings tight. The moon above turned a blood red.

Katara’s eyes widened in terror. She remembered what Avatar Kuruk had told her about the moon and ocean spirits. Admiral Zhao had just captured Tui, the Moon Spirit.

The scene then shifted to the northern city with a blood red light washing over it. The Northern Water Tribe’s counter-attack against the Fire Nation soldiers was faltering. Without the moon in balance with the ocean, the waterbenders had lost their power to bend. The Fire Nation soldiers were advancing, burning the city as they went.

More images shifted by. Katara advanced down the bridge, trembling slightly as she went. Suddenly there was Zhao again, standing under the red moon. He held a knife to the bag with Tui inside.

Aang dropped his staff in surrender. _“Zhao, don’t!”_

 _“It’s my destiny,”_ Zhao said with a smug grin. _“To destroy the moon and the Water Tribe.”_

 _“Destroying the moon won’t just hurt the Water Tribe,”_ Aang pleaded. _“It will hurt everyone, including you. Without the moon, everything would fall out of balance. You have no idea what kind of chaos that would unleash on the world.”_

 _“He is right, Zhao!”_ A hooded Iroh stepped towards Zhao on the side of Aang, forming a triangle around the pond.

_“General Iroh,” Zhao said with a bored sigh. _“Why am I not surprised to discover your treachery?”__

Iroh lowered his hood. _“I’m no traitor, Zhao. The Fire Nation needs the moon, too. We all depend on the balance.”_ He pointed a finger at the admiral and thundered, _“Whatever you do to that spirit, I will unleash on you ten-fold!”_ He assumed a firebending stance. _“Let it go, now!”_

Iroh and Zhao locked gazes and, after a moment, Zhao faltered. He released the koi back into the water. The red light of the moon vanished, returning to its normal colour, and Katara breathed a silent sigh of relief. But then Zhao’s face contorted with rage and his hand came down, smiting the water with a hot blast of fire. The moon winked out of existence.

Katara was horrified. What had he done?

Iroh sprang into action immediately, crossing the foot bridge and attacking with blast after blast, effortlessly despatching Zhao’s men. The admiral watched the general’s blinding assault and quickly fled back towards the city.

Iroh turned back to the pond and knelt in defeat. The black fish was swimming frantically while the white koi floated lifelessly to the surface. There was a huge gash in its side. Iroh gently lifted the white fish from the water, an expression of utter sadness on his face.

 _“There’s no hope now,”_ Yue whispered. _“It’s over.”_

Katara’s heart clenched in irrevocable sorrow. The Moon Spirit was dead? It couldn’t be. But it was. She could feel it. She could feel the absence of the moon and the loss of her own bending.

Was everything already lost?

She wanted to call out, to return to her world as quickly as possible, but that was what the spirits wanted. This was her test, the penalty she had to pay. She was being forced to watch her friends and her brother face danger alone while she was helpless to intervene.

Yes, this was her test, and in order to pass it, she would have to continue on.

* * *

KATARA’S HEART WAS heavy now, and she wondered if that’s what made her legs feel so leaden. She felt like she was wading through molasses; each step was more labouring than the last.

The fog had returned, no longer green but a greying brown. Sepia. The colours of the celestial waters had changed too, and that was when she realised every colour represented an interval in time—the future, the present and now the past.

With their dying hint of green, the water began to weave a scene. Katara saw herself standing next to Aang on the river bank. They were practising waterbending.

 _“This is a pretty basic move, but it still took me months to perfect, so don’t be frustrated if you don’t get it right away.”_ She gave Aang with an encouraging smile. _“Just push and pull the water like this.”_

She began to bob gracefully back and forth and the water on the river edge moved back and forth with her.

_“The key is getting the wrist movement right.”_

Aang began imitating her. _“Like this?”_

_“That’s almost right. If you keep practising, I’m sure eventually—”_

_“Hey, I’m bending it already!”_ The Avatar began to move around a respectable-sized wave of water, and Katara opened her mouth in shock.

 _“Wow, I can’t believe you got that so quickly.”_ She looked a little unhappy. _“It took me two months to learn that move.”_

 _“Well, you had to figure it out on your own,”_ he reasoned. _“I’m lucky enough to have a great teacher.”_

Katara frowned. She remembered the envy she had felt then. She really didn’t want to watch this scene. It made her feel uncomfortable and she didn’t care to discover why.

_“So, what’s next?”_

_“This is a more difficult move. I call it_ streaming the water _.”_ She moved her hands and pulled out of a stream of water from the river and began to loop it around. _“It’s harder than it looks, so don’t be disappointed if—”_

Her past-self stopped mid-sentence, seeing that Aang had already mastered the move. She was disappointed. Begrudgingly, she showed him a new technique, a harder one that she had yet to master; however, where she had failed, Aang succeeded.

In the present, standing on that bridge, Katara could only frown while she watched the sour look on her own face. Was she that jealous back then, that insecure?

The images jumped around and she saw herself back by the river with Aang again. He was holding open the waterbending scroll for her to read.

 _“The single water whip,”_ she read aloud. _“Looks doable.”_

She raised a stream of water and whipped it around, but it hit her in the forehead, leaving a red welt. Sokka, who was sitting cross-legged on a rock behind her, laughed.

 _“What’s so funny!”_ she snapped.

 _“I’m sorry, but you deserve that.”_ He turned to at Aang. _“You’ve been duped. She’s only interested in teaching herself.”_

A cold knot of shame formed in the pit of her stomach. Sokka was right. She had only been interested in teaching herself at the time. She couldn’t help but think how selfish she could be back then, how self-centred. Her mother would have been so disappointed in her.

 _“Argh! Why can’t I get this stupid move!”_ She stomped her foot in annoyance.

 _“You’ll get it,”_ Aang reassured her, but this only angered her more. He then formed the water whip correctly on the first try. _“You’ve just gotta shift your weight through the stances.”_ He gracefully manipulated the whip for a few seconds and then dropped it back into the river. _“There. See, the key to bending is—”_

 _“Will you PLEASE shut your air hole!”_ she exploded. _“Believe it or not, your infinite wisdom gets a little old sometimes. Why don’t we just throw the scroll away since you’re so naturally gifted!”_

Katara closed her eyes in embarrassment. Had she really said that to him? Had she really looked like that? Her envy and her insecurities—she wore them brazenly like a badge of shame, but now was not the time to dwell on them. She could no longer just think about herself. That wasn’t who she was. She had to keep moving.

More images appeared after that, but Katara continued onwards. It was hard to watch her past, but it was harder still to resist it when she was surrounded by it. The images began to form a familiar pattern and, as the scene played out, her breath hitched in her throat. This was what she didn’t want to see: a piece of her past that she didn’t want to relive; something she didn’t wish to ever experience again. But she had to relive it. There was no turning back.

It was in these images that she saw her brother, younger than he was now, popping his head out from a snow fort only to have a snowball smashed in his face. The culprit, a young Katara, giggled as she watched her older brother try to heave a snowball as big as his body. He was about to throw it, or have it drop back down on his face, when he looked up. Katara glanced up, too. Black snow was raining down on them like soot.

 _“I’m going to find Mom,”_ she said, running past Sokka.

Young Katara weaved her way through the crowd. She was so tiny that she was almost trampled on. But as the warriors rushed past her towards the icy shore, she soundlessly slipped inside her family’s hut and pushed aside the curtains.

_“Mom!”_

Her words died in her throat when she saw her mother on her knees in front of a Fire Nation soldier. The man turned to look at the young Katara and older Katara felt the familiar dread return to her stomach, but this time it was accompanied with pure hatred. This was the man who had killed her mother.

 _“Just let her go,”_ her mother pleaded, _“and I’ll give you the information you want.”_

 _“You heard your mother.”_ The Fire Nation soldier motioned towards the exit. _“Get out of here!”_

Katara whimpered, _“Mom, I’m scared.”_

 _“Go find your dad, sweetie,”_ she said. _“I’ll handle this.”_

A reluctant Katara looked up at the soldier before turning and pushing past the curtains. She ran from the house as fast as she could, as fast as her little feet could carry her. She stopped at the edge of a small hill and looked down, spotting her father.

 _“Dad! Dad!”_ Hakoda was throwing a firebending soldier hard into the snow, but glanced up at the sound of his daughter’s voice. _“Please, I think Mom’s in trouble! There’s a man in our house.”_

Her father let go of the soldier immediately. _“Kya!”_

They both ran back home, Katara behind her father as he pulled back the curtains.

_“Mom?”_

Katara’s throat felt pinhole thin. Now she finally understood why Zuko had been so afraid to relive his past. The pain was as immediate as it was soul-annihilating. It felt as though a knife had been plunged into her heart, twisted so that it would never heal. She never wanted to see this again, but here it was, frozen in time. It was a reminder of her mother’s sacrifice.

She wanted to turn away. She wanted so badly to escape inside herself and let the pain consume her, but she couldn’t. Such luxuries couldn’t be afforded to her here, not now, not with another’s soul in the balance. So with a broken and bleeding heart, Katara moved forward into the abyss.

* * *

ZUKO WATCHED AS Katara’s shoulders trembled, yet her head was still held high as she took a step forward. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was amazed by her conviction. His mother had left him, yes, but he had never witnessed her death. He had never seen her burnt, lifeless body laid bare before him. This memory he was sharing with her was plain cruel. However, he now understood why Katara had hated him; why when she thought of the Fire Nation, she had pictured his face.

Inexplicably, he felt need to reach out to her. He wanted to put his hand on her shoulder and tell her that it was okay to cry; to tell her that her mother had died for her and that was the greatest sacrifice a parent could ever make. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do or say anything that would make her feel better. He was powerless, and it angered him more than he thought it would.

His eyes returned to her back, watching her shoulders square back once more with that dogged determination that she wore like a trademark—no, like a banner. She was strong and tenacious. She was like him in some ways but stronger, so much stronger. For the Fire Nation had taken away her mother like they had taken away his. It was something they had in common.

* * *

KATARA COULD SEE the light at the end of the bridge, a faint glow in the distance. Her steps seemed lighter now and she almost raced towards the exit. But then the light went out and the fog lifted and lowered, curling around her. It invaded her, consuming her every pore, and blurred her vision until she was blindly trudging forward.

And as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. The fog once more parted like curtains and a thin strip opened down the bridge. At the end she saw the soft glow of the exit and something else, something far more heart-stopping. It was her mother.

Katara’s body trembled. Of course it wasn’t going to be easy. She wasn’t just going to be shown images of her future, present and past and simply be allowed to leave. She was going to be tempted, _really_ tempted by the solid-looking image of her mother standing in front of her.

Katara was so close now that she could hear her mother breathing, could smell the gentle fragrance of her hair.

“Katara.” Her mother’s voice was so soft, exactly how she remembered it.

Katara’s own voice had strangled in her throat. She blinked back tears. It was a trick, she told herself. It had to be. Her mind screamed at her to not trust this image before her, that Zuko’s soul depended on her actions. She could not break now when she had come this far. However, her mother looked so real, so solid and alive. She could see the rise and fall of her chest, the wind blowing through her hair, and the wet tears welling in her eyes.

“Katara, come to me. It’s so cold down here without you.”

That did it.

A whimper escaped Katara’s lips and she clamped her hands over her mouth. Tears streamed down her face without abandon. Had she spoken aloud? Had she called out to her mother? She didn’t know. However, the look on her mother’s face didn’t make matters better. Katara could already feel her hands leaving her face and reaching out to her mother, her lips parting open to speak, but suddenly she stopped.

Katara wanted this. She wanted this more than life itself. But it wasn’t her soul she was gambling with; it was Zuko’s. Her mother, her real mother would never want her to do this. She would never ask Katara to sacrifice someone else for her own happiness.

Swallowing tightly, Katara let her hands fall limply to her sides, along with her tears. She kept walking, her bottom lip wobbling as she went. She could feel the cold mist as she brushed past her mother’s form. She could feel her own tears freely spilling down her cheeks and neck.

_I’m sorry, Mom. I love you. I love you so much, but I have to do this._

She looked ahead, her vision blurred by tears, and continued on until she could no longer feel her mother’s presence. That was when she finally saw the stairs: a set of white steps leading up into the clouds. And as she drew nearer, the exit began to glow brightly. She raised one foot on the step and then another, ascending, and suddenly she saw Yue bathed in a white light. She was floating down towards her.

_Yue?_

The princess was reaching out to her, and Katara dumbly lifted her own hand to grasp the young woman’s. The touch was misty but warm, slowly growing solid. Katara studied the hand for a second, no longer seeing the lightly umber-tanned skin or the dainty slender fingers. Instead, this new hand was bigger, masculine and pale.

She looked up and her eyes widened in shock. _Zuko?_

It was not Yue holding her hand now but Zuko. He was above her, the white backdrop of the clouds surrounding his head like a halo. He was smiling sadly, and then he was gone.

Katara screamed.

* * *

HE WAS GONE! Zuko was gone, sent to hell because of her!

Katara knew it. She could feel it in the bottom of her heart like a gaping, festering wound. She looked for him but couldn’t find him. He was gone. The light was so bright now; it was blinding her. Everything had turned white and, against her own volition, Katara closed her eyes. And just before slipping into the null void of unconsciousness, she called Zuko’s name.

* * *

KATARA BOLTED AWAKE with a gasp. Her tunic was soaked through at the back with sweat, trapped between her coat so that the cold tingled against her wet skin. She brought a shaky hand to her face and patted it gently, as if to test that she was real.

Her fingers swept up into her hairline, running through the loose tendrils that had come undone from her braid. She breathed heavily, trying to slow her rapid-beating heart. She collected her thoughts. She remembered reaching the exit, the bright light and Yue’s hand reaching out for hers. She made it, she told herself. She made it back to the living world. But then another, far more worrisome thought surfaced: _Zuko didn’t make it._

She turned, expectant to see the prince sitting up and regarding her with his trademark gloomy glare, but he was lying still on the ground where she had left him. His eyes were closed and his mouth was still open in that faint O of shock she remembered all too well.

_He looked so young._

“Zuko!”

She quickly scrambled over to his pale, prone body and yanked apart his coat, exposing his skin to the icy elements. She put her ear against his chest. There was barely any warmth left in him, no rise and fall of his chest. Nothing. He wasn’t breathing.

“This can’t be happening,” she whimpered, lifting her head as she put two fingers to the pulse of his neck. There wasn’t one.

She began to panic, feeling the wash of fire and ice swimming through her veins as if being pumped by a hummingbird’s wings hell-bent on destroying what was left of her fragile heart. Gathering her wits, she drew water from the snow and placed her palms over his chest. She could do this, she told herself. She just needed to restart his heart. No big deal.

Her hands trembled as she bent the water. It glowed a pale blue and she tried to remember what Yugoda had taught her about healing, but her mind had drawn a blank. All she could focus on was his pale, lifeless face staring up at her. This was not what she wanted.

This was _not_ what she wanted!

“Breathe, Zuko! BREATHE!”

Fresh tears stung her eyes, dripping down her cheeks and mixing with the healing water. Trembling fingers coated with ice caressed his skin, but there was nothing, no reaction, just her cold fingers on his equally cooling skin.

“I was supposed to save you,” she whispered. “I was supposed to—”

Her fingers suddenly jumped as a pulse beat rhythmically beneath. She could feel Zuko’s chi, the fire reigniting within him. His throat wobbled and he began coughing hoarsely, shifting beneath her. Golden eyes struggled to open, peeking out through long lashes. He managed another broken cough then, before shakily sitting up and covering his throat with his palm.

Katara released a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding and lunged forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re alive!”

Zuko was thrown back, knocked down by the sheer force of her weight. He cried out in pain, and Katara quickly disengaged herself and helped him back to a sitting position. He stared at her, confused and mystified, his hand still caressing his bruised throat.

“Where am I? What happened?”

Katara’s eyes widened in surprise first and then worry. Suddenly she was lunging forward again, her hands on his face. This time her lips locked with his and Zuko’s eyes bugged open in abject shock, staying that way for a half second before lazily drifting shut. His long lashes fluttered against her cheek as her lips bruised against his with an incessant pressure.

After a few seconds, Katara slowly broke off the kiss, nudging her nose against his as she pulled back. Zuko’s eyes were still closed and his mouth half open. Soon his eyelashes began to flutter and his eyes shot open. A look of bewildered recognition registered in his burnished gold eyes.

“Uh, nice to see you, too?”

Zuko’s good eye was as wide as a saucer plate and his hands were on her shoulders, keeping her back at arm’s length in case she should pounce again. Katara wasn’t sure how or when his hands got there. Zuko didn’t seem to know either, because suddenly he was staring down at them in dawning horror before abruptly pulling away as though she had just scalded him.

“You remember me?” Katara asked, biting her swollen lip in anticipation.

Zuko regarded her with a baffled expression, as though she had just asked the stupidest question in the world. “Of course I do. You killed me and then hauled me out of the Spirit World.” He eyed her warily before leaning even farther back. “Why were you kissing me just now?”

“Agni said—” she was speaking quickly, too quickly for him to fully comprehend “—Agni said that you wouldn’t remember anything when you returned to the surface, and that I’d have to kiss you to make you remember and—”

Realisation hit her as subtly as a lobbed brick. Her face instantly drained of colour and just as quickly flushed a bright pink.

“That sneaky little bas—”

“Ah-ah.” Zuko put a finger to her lips. “No cursing the gods. It’ll bring you bad luck.”

Katara blushed several more shades of pink and Zuko lowered his hand, an effulgence of colour blossoming on his own cheeks.

“So that’s what Lord Agni wanted to speak to you about in private?” he asked, and she nodded shyly.

“Yeah. I guess gods like to play tricks, too.”

They both turned away and sat down on the cold ground in silence, until Katara finally worked up the courage to look at Zuko’s face again. She noted the ropey scar on his neck with a slight frown.

“I can heal that for you, if you want.” She pointed to his throat and made a motion across her own neck when he gave her a look of utter bewilderment.

“Sure,” he said gruffly, but she could still see the slight tint of blush on his cheeks.

A few seconds later, Katara had Zuko lie back down. She gathered the water into her palms and placed the healing liquid over his neck and let her fingers do their work. She could already feel his chi responding to hers, the torn skin knitting itself back together, weaving over and over until the pattern was whole again.

Once finished, she lowered her hands and smiled proudly at her work. She had to admit she did a rather good job. There was barely a noticeable line on his throat now. His skin was as perfect and pale as before.

Zuko sat up and put his hand to his throat, examining it. A faint smile surfaced on his lips when he could no longer feel the ropey bump that was there before.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome.”

Katara’s smile widened and she rose to her feet. Zuko stood with her. There was an awkward tension settled between the two of them now, not animosity but something else. Katara wondered if they should talk about what just happened but reconsidered, thinking maybe it was best this way. They both talked enough at Varuna’s palace, and they had both seen enough of each other’s pasts to last a lifetime.

It was then that soft rays of sunlight peeked their way through the opening of the cave. Both teenagers turned towards the light. The storm appeared to have passed and it was now clear outside. The rising of the sun enticed them, tempting them to leave the comfort of the cave.

Once outside, Katara could see the moon still hanging in the sky, paling in the brightness of the overshadowing sun. Aang and the others must have saved the day somehow, and she smiled at the thought. She should have never doubted her friends, never doubted the Avatar. The moon still existed, cohabiting with the sun in the same sky, if only for a little while—much like her and Zuko.

She took in a deep breath of fresh air and grinned at the thought. “Do you think we could have been friends?” she blurted out.

Zuko looked down at her with eyes that seemed to glow in the reflecting sunlight. “Is that all you good guys care about—friendship?”

“That and saving the world from pompous princes who think they’re above everyone else.”

“Meet a lot of those types, huh?”

“All the time.”

Both tried to hold a straight face, but they eventually gave in with the ghost of grins before turning away. There was tension and embarrassment and definitely awkward silence, but it really wasn’t all that bad, Katara thought. But then she could feel Zuko’s eyes on her and the back of her neck became unbearably hot.

“No,” he said.

She looked up at him, nonplussed. “No, what?”

“No, I don’t think we could have been friends,” he answered truthfully. “Not before you killed me, anyway.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders dropped. Why did she feel so disappointed? “And now?”

“Now?” Zuko contemplated the idea for a moment and nodded slightly. “Maybe.”

He smiled a tiny, private smile and Katara felt a sudden jolt inside her heart. There was a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes, and she returned his smile with a curt nod of understanding.

“After all, you did risk your eternal karma for me,” he said, trying to restrain a smirk. “I’d hate to have to come fetch you from the Spirit World later on down the road.”

She stared up at him slack-jawed for a moment before slapping his arm. “Good to hear you’ve gained a sense of humour through all of this, _Your Highness_.”

“It’s all thanks to you, Water Peasant,” he said with a smirk, before dodging her tiny fists and spinning away.

Just then a dark shadow fell across the tundra. Katara and Zuko stopped their struggle and glanced skywards. A large white object was streaking across the sky. Katara let out a sigh of relief at the all-too-familiar sight of Appa coming into view. The giant sky bison then dove towards the ground and landed on the snow with a grunt. Aang had already floated off Appa’s neck while Sokka leapt out of the saddle, accompanied by a surprisingly nimble Iroh.

“Katara!” the airbender cried happily, running towards her.

“Aang!” Katara’s arms were already wrapped around the Avatar, pulling him into a tight hug before she moved onto her brother, smiling into his neck. “Sokka!”

The three pulled apart and glanced over at Zuko in surprise. Aang had a goofy grin on his face that Katara was sure wouldn’t disappear any time soon, while Sokka’s brow had furrowed so deeply it seemed to have disappeared into the bridge of his nose.

“Isn’t he supposed to be dead?” He hooked his thumb in Zuko’s direction, and Katara swatted his hand down.

“Sokka!”

“Nephew!” Iroh exclaimed with great relief, finally having caught up.

He threw his arms around a half-protesting Zuko, who finally gave in and returned his uncle’s embrace. After a while, Iroh released him, holding the young prince at arm’s length so he could examine him for any signs of injury.

“Praise the spirits you’re alive!”

Iroh pulled Zuko in for another hug and the prince smiled softly, awkwardly patting his uncle’s back before pulling away.

“Uncle, what happened?” he asked. “Where’s Zhao?”

Iroh’s expression darkened. “Admiral Zhao is dead. His fleet is retreating as we speak.”

Zuko shook his head in disbelief. “But how?”

“This young Avatar here.” Iroh turned, motioning to a now crest-fallen Aang. The airbender looked both sad and guilty. “It’s a long story, and I will have to tell you over tea sometime, and hopefully you will tell me _your_ story.”

He spared a brief glance at Katara before turning back to his nephew, offering him a knowing wink, which only made Zuko frown.

“Wait,” Katara suddenly cried out, circling in the snow. “Where’s Yue?” She wasn’t on Appa. She hadn’t come with them.

“She sacrificed herself so that Tui could live.” Sokka’s face was pale with sorrow. “She’s the Moon Spirit now.”

Aang put a hand on the older boy’s arm and looked up at Katara with sad grey eyes. “It probably doesn’t make a lot of sense, but—”

“No, it makes perfect sense.” It was Yue who had reached for her at the end. It was Yue who had brought her and Zuko safely home. “Sokka, I’m so sorry.”

Her hand was on his other arm, caressing it gently, and he lowered his head with a sigh.

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” he said, glancing up and regarding his sister with eyes as blue as hers.

“Me too,” Aang added, and Katara smiled sadly.

“Prince Zuko?”

Katara turned to see Iroh addressing the already retreating prince.

“What’s the matter, Fire Prince?” Sokka taunted. “Not going to try to capture Aang here now that you know what my sister can do to you?”

“Sokka!” She felt a blush of anger and shame settle on her cheeks.

“No, we’re even for now.” Zuko nodded back at the city behind them. “You go back to your victory celebration. I’m sure they’re waiting for you all.”

He was about to turn to leave, when Katara broke away from her brother and Aang and took a bold step forward. “Zuko, I—”

“We’ll meet again, Waterbender,” he said, cutting her off. There was a hint of that private smile on his lips, and Katara was unable to stop her own smile in return.

“Yeah.” She nodded. “See you soon, Your Highness.”

Katara then raised her hand in farewell and Zuko returned it briefly before finally turning away. She lowered her arm and watched him leave with his uncle—to where, she did not know. Would he try to capture Aang again? She didn’t know this, either. She didn’t really know anything at this point.

What she did remember were the glimpses of her future. She remembered the lightning he would take for her and, because of that, she smiled. She couldn’t explain why, but she knew the gamble she took on him was worth it. She knew that she had made the right choice.

She would see this lonely prince again, she told herself. In this lifetime or the next. For in both life and death, their souls had become inextricably bound.

* * *

THE WHITE-HAIRED GODDESS smiled as she watched the scene unfold in the celestial waters.

“The sun meets the moon and worlds collide,” Agni said, as he watched the teenagers part ways. He leaned over Varuna’s shoulder. “Do you think it was wise to allow this girl to return with him to the living?”

The pale-haired goddess lifted her chin to meet her companion’s gaze. “The moon would be very bored indeed without the sun constantly vying for control, my dear Agni. You above all should know that.” She lovingly caressed his cheek. “Let the worlds collide, I say.”

Agni smiled, pressing his lips into her palm. “Forever and ever, my queen.”

 

  
_“The gates of hell are open night and day;_  
_Smooth the descent and easy is the way._  
_But to return and view the cheerful skies;_  
_In this the task and mighty labour lies.”_

 

**~ fin ~**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this story was loosely based on _The Death of Eurydice_ , as well as Book 6 of Virgil’s _The Aeneid_. Let’s just say that I was inspired by Greek and Vedic underworld mythology in general. :)


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